


The Burning Sheep

by Violet_Skys



Category: overwatch
Genre: F/M, Minor OC - Freeform, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 73,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Skys/pseuds/Violet_Skys
Summary: Takes place in a Victorian AU. Satya and her father have moved from India to Australia to take a job rebuilding a town. The man who hired Mr. Vaswani is an anonymous entrepreneur from England who promises to help the two obtain English citizenship if they do this job. Their new life for the next year would look to be promising if it weren't for the explosive neighbor next door who somehow manages to set his sheep on fire. Sorry for the crappy summary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading this, I hope you do t find yourself completely bored while reading this. I did a lot of research trying to make this fanfic as historically accurate as possible, but there may be some small errors. The main pairing in this fanfic is junkmetra, but it will include some minor Genji/mercy and possibly some mchanzo. The first chapter might be a bit boring, but the second is almost ready to upload. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The water rippled in sun kissed shimmers of liquid glass against the ship’s worn hull. Satya inhaled the briny draft sweeping the ocean’s surface, relishing its warmth as she tucked a mutinous lock of hair behind her ear. The ship bobbed up and down, tilting in all directions and the bench’s splintering seat snagged her skirt. Her blouse was disarmingly wrinkled and she could see her father’s face begin to turn a sickly shade of green. The two sat on the bench of a cargo vessel headed for a port city in Australia, Not far from the colony where her father, Hassan, had been contracted to design and begin building proper homes for the convicts that lived there. Her father had been hesitant to take the job, but the colony’s proprietor was a wealthy Englishman. He had the connections to get Hassan and his daughter English citizenship and help them start a life in a country with more work and opportunities. Satya walked to the ship’s rail and began to lightly tap her fingers in a calming, repetitive pattern. How long had they been on the ship? One week? Two? At the moment, Australia was no more than a slim trace of land on the horizon. She had never though she would leave India, but her father didn’t know anyone who could take her until his contract finished. A land primarily inhabited by gold miners from Eastern Asia and criminals turned Sheep herders isn’t the most ideal place to raise a young woman, but it was his only option. 

By the time the trace of land turned into a clearly visible stretch of city. Her father walked up, relieved of his motion sickness, to stand beside her.

“ That’s Port Arthur. We’ll be traveling to a colony just outside of it. There, the convicts raise sheep for wool. The wool is then shipped off to British mills where it’s made into cloth. There's also a gold mine nearby, many people from Eastern Asia have come to Australia seeking wealth. Do stay away from it, the gas leaks in this area are said to be terrible.” He says, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Satya smiles lightly.

“That sounds intriguing. The equipment for shearing and processing wool must be fascinating. I wonder if I could convince someone to let me examine their equipment, I've never seen a shearing board before.” Her father narrowed his gaze at her.

“I’m hoping you won’t ask. The majority of the herders are criminals, they were shipped here from England because the British didn't want them running about, I don’t want you near them.” Satya understood his reasoning. Still, it was a shame. She still wanted to examine the shearing board’s equipment. Though she would never be able to design things and sell the plans like her father, she still liked examining the finer points of new technology. Hassan looked from her back to the island.

“I told the client that you were to come with me since there isn’t anyone to care for you at home. He was astonished that you were already eighteen and hadn’t had any instruction in the workings of English society and was determined that you receive a proper education beyond reading and writing if he is to help us enter society and promote business. He has generously offered to send his niece’s former governess from France. She will arrive no more than two weeks from now and I expect that most of your time will be spent with her. You have much to learn and that will leave little time for watching criminals care for sheep.” Satya was surprised. What she and her father were receiving for this contract, even if it was extensive, seemed Like too much. Perhaps it was a business tactic used to obtain a better product. It was human nature to be greedy. There would be logic to such a tactic. The stretch of city grew closer by the minute and a crew member in a tattered shirt poked his head from below deck and called to her father.

“We’ll dock at port Arthur within the hour, sir.” He shouted over the wind before fleeing back Below deck.  
The large vessel was pulled into the docking area by ropes the crew had thrown down to dock workers below. Satya could hear her father speaking to the boat’s captain about their luggage and where he could find a train to take them to the town he would be rebuilding. She stepped onto the dock and stood near the end where the city’s roads met the wooden structure. Port Arthur was bustling with activity. Men stood smoking their cigars at the entrance to saloons or sweeping the entrances and arranging the displays of their businesses. Women flitted in and out of small shops, some speaking to one another, their fans moving quickly to stave off the late summer heat, while others were hurrying after children, who ran quickly through the crowds. Apparently not everyone was a miner or sheep farmer. Her father tapped her shoulder and held up two tickets. 

“There’s a train station a few blocks up the road. If we hurry, we can meet the five o’clock train to Radnor.” The two walked as fast as they could, their luggage stacked on a small cart that was usually used for transporting crates off a ship. After a while, the two tired travelers were seated comfortably in the back car of a steam engine next to a man with a scruffy beard carrying a carpet bag. The trunk was safely stored above and suitcases were tucked neatly away under the seats. Satya smoothed out the dark blue fabric of her skirt, feeling more at peace than she had the entire boat ride over from India. The familiar bustle of a busy city gave her a sense of safety.

The train began to slowly move forward and Satya gripped the corners of her seat as she looked out the window. The surrounding land was different from most anything she had seen before. There were wide expanses of vibrant green pastures, most of which were covered in livestock or organized rows of crops of every kind. It was beautiful in a simple way. Small houses littered the spaces in between the fields. She could tell when they were nearing the town. More of the small houses started to pop up in groups next to the tracks. The tracks led in between two of the little groupings and the train pulled into a small station. She looked around and could instantly see why her father had been called in. 

“It’s slightly… deteriorated.” She noted, looking at the little town disapprovingly. It wasn't as bad as some of the slums back in India, but in a year or so, the town would be in ruins. Hassan nodded his agreement at the sight of the small, crumbling buildings and the haphazardly arranged block. Everything looked broken, out of place, and disorderly. It was awful. The two walked through the town, looking for some kind of street sigh to help them find the correct address, but any sign they found had either been vandalized to the point it was illegible, or was rotted beyond recognition.

In the pale light of dusk, Satya could just barely see a wagon carrying sacks of something, most likely flour or oats, driving by the scantily inhabited town and Hassan was quick to chase him and ask for directions to the address he had been given.

“Wow” said the man, surprise, looking up from the address. “That’s a nice place, just a bit down that street. Your boss, whatever kind of big shot London suit he may be, is taki’n good care of ya. One of the better places around here. If ya want, I can take ya there, help ya with your luggage.” The man’s English was odd. Perhaps a dialect? The man helped them load their belongings into his cart and nudged the horse, an old grey mare, into action. They drove down the deteriorating streets until they arrived at a small group of three houses. 

“This is the address.” Says the driver, looking back over his shoulder at Hassan.

“Thank you” said Hassan, pushing off his seat in the back of the wagon before helping his daughter down. “I hope we haven’t pulled you too far off your route.” The driver shakes his head.

“No worries, my first stop is the next town over.” The driver stepped down to help Hassan bring the trunks into the house. Satya stood by the wheel to wait while the trunk was being moved. A few of the surrounding houses had broken fencing to the front and green pastures to the back. The penned in area in the front of the first house kept a few sheep while the rest of the flock stayed to the back. Two of the houses even had a small barn, though they could use some patching and a few coats of paint. A dirt road led to a few small shops and a shearing board where those who raised sheep could take their herd to shear its wool. Overall, the small community appeared to have a charming, albeit somewhat crumbling atmosphere. This first impression of Satya’s was immediately ruined when a loud boom came from the first house on the street and a flaming sheep followed by a filthy man with singed hair wielding a bucket of water came bursting from the house.

“Oi! Come back here! I’m sorry! I didn’t know the blasted thing was gonna blow up at ya!” the man was hobbling on a peg leg and one of his sleeves was tied at the shoulder. She wondered what he had done to lose not just one, but two of his limbs. Her features turn to a look of scorn and bewilderment. Wool isn’t flammable. How on earth do you manage to catch a sheep on fire? A large man with a cloth tied around his face appeared in the doorway just as his companion doused the burning animal. 

“Third stove this week. It’s coming out of your earnings this time.” Grunted the man in a gruff baritone. The singed man looked irritated at this comment. 

“Yea, yea. Don’t leave the lamp burning on the stove. I don’t need to hear it again.” The man grumbled as he began to pet the burned sheep as if he were trying to comfort it. He stopped stroking the singed wool when he caught sight of Satya’s stare.

“Oi, Sheila! What are you looking at?” He snapped rudely. Satya narrowed her eyes. She hadn't said anything, why was he angry?

“Nothing that appears to be worth my time.” She quipped sharply, bringing her hand up to examine her nails. They were beginning to get long. Perhaps she would cut them later. The man appeared to be offended by this comment, though his large friend who was chuckling and snorting rather loudly apparently found it amusing. Satya placed her hand by her side before continuing.

“After all, why should a man who has no business raising sheep and” She paused, eyeing the man’s skin, which was filthy and covered in soot and dirt. “has apparently never heard of a bath catch my interest?” If the man was annoyed before, he was fuming now. Satya heard the door open and close. It was probably her father or the wagon driver.

“Ya try ‘in ta start something Sheila?” The man barked, hobbling over to the edge of the broken fence. He glared suspiciously. “I don’t recognize you. Ya here with one of those suits who think they can waltz right in and change everything? Well I got news for you Sheila. You-“ “Are going inside.” Interrupted Hassan in a quiet but firm voice as he guided his daughter towards the house while glaring at the singed man.

Satya turned her attention from the singed man and his companion, trying to forget the repulsive interaction, to the house. It wasn’t in the best shape. The roof was patched and would probably have a leak or two if it rained, but it wasn’t on the verge of falling down and in shambles like the house where the singed man lived. It was a mansion compared to that junk pile. 

The inside wasn’t bad. The parlor had a nice sofa with two matching chairs. The rich upholstery had at one point been quite elegant, but age had worn away its former beauty. A light colored wooden table had been placed between the chairs and sofa, most likely for the purpose of afternoon tea or a small luncheon. A Fireplace sat towards the back of the room by a hallway that led to a small room and a door stood on the wall opposite the fire place. Hassan stood beside her and began to direct her around the house, pointing as he spoke. 

“This is the parlor, down that hall is the study and the kitchen is through that door. There is a set of stairs in the kitchen that lead upstairs where there are two bedrooms and a wash room. One of the rooms has two beds, that will be your room and the governess will stay there with you once she arrives. I will stay in the other room. The driver kindly took your suitcase to your room, I really think I should have given him a bigger tip for his troubles.” Satya nodded at her father’s words but was a bit more preoccupied with the furniture arrangement. Perhaps she could move it into a more efficient layout. Oh well, now was certainly not the time for that. 

Satya made her way to the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the first bedroom on the right. The room contained one bed, a night stand, desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf. This must be her father’s room. 

She continued down the hall and opened the other door. Two beds had their headboards pushed against the back wall and a window sat on the wall across from her. A wardrobe stood tall across from the beds and the dressing table sat in the corner. Her suitcase had been placed on the bed closest to the window. Satya immediately got to work, hanging her dresses in the wardrobe, putting her things in drawers, and putting the few books, notebooks, and sketchbooks on the shelf. She suspected she would have more to fill the dark ebony shelves with after the governess arrived. 

Satya flipped through one of the sketch books. They contained most anything from sketches of her father and life back home in India, to sketches and plans for building designs. Every line was immaculately drawn and the images they composed were filled in with elaborate detail. She knew she would never officially have anything to do with her father’s work, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t drop subtle hints if he came to an issue he couldn't solve on his own. 

Satya looked around to study her work. Everything was organized exactly the way she liked it. Not a thing was out of place. Contentedly, she pushed the suitcase under the bed, and looked out the window. The sun had set and it was dark. She should probably get to sleep. She changed into her night clothes and turned down the white sheets and lilac quilt before curling up in the bed, feeling her muscles relax as she exhaled and closed her eyes. As she drifted to sleep, she heard the faint sounds of bleating sheep and the obnoxious dialect of her explosive new neighbor calling in his flock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for reading last weeks chapter. I will try to update on a weekly basis, but there will be exceptions (like exam week) or times when I post a day or two earlier or later. I hope you like this chapter, enjoy!

When Satya woke, the sun had risen. It was probably around ten thirty, judging by the sun. She sat up, placed her feet on the floor, and walked to the wardrobe to pull out a pair of stockings, a chemise, a clean skirt and bodice, drawers, two petticoats, and a jump. She didn’t care much for the thick garment of quilted linen, but it was a standard. After pulling on the clean clothes and setting aside her neatly folded night clothes for washing, she buttoned her shoes and walked downstairs. The house was silent, the creaky stairs creating a mild eerie effect as she stepped into the kitchen, through the door, and into the parlor. Her father sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, a book in his lap. At the sound of the door, he looked up and smiled at his daughter. 

“I was wondering when you would get up. We have been invited to tea with our new neighbor at twelve, I was about to go wake you myself.” Satya froze . The man who sets his herd on fire and has gotten in enough trouble to cost him two of his limbs wanted to drink tea with them? Was this some sort of joke?

“I’m not quite sure I understand. The man with singed hair drinks tea?” she questioned, her eyebrows furrowing in obvious confusion. Her father gaped for a moment before laughing lightly.

“I agree, he does not seem to be the type to participate in such an activity. He was not the one who extended the invitation. Miss. Ziegler, our other neighbor, was the one who called on us. She stopped by this morning. As far as first impressions go, she’s a lovely woman and I believe she would make the perfect companion for you until the governess arrives. This way, you can have someone to keep you company while I work.” Satya sat in the other chair.

“How old is she?” she asked, curious to know what their new neighbor was like. Her father marked and closed his book before setting it on the table. 

“She’s nearly twenty six. All property that would have been given to her husband is hers. Though I would have preferred she be married, I think she will make a fine temporary companion. She said she was a nurse in Switzerland before she moved here, I wonder why she would go so far from her home. I also believe she runs a small clinic in the downstairs of her home. The gold miners often come to her if they get cut or burned.” Well this was curious. It was unusual for women to work in such a profession as medicine. Well, the woman needed some form of income if she wasn’t married and if this was the best way for her to earn a living, she wouldn’t judge her for it. 

Her father picked his book back up and began reading once again. She looked at the clock. It was only ten forty five. She needed something to do. She decided to get a sketch book from upstairs and return to the parlor to sketch until noon. After settling back down in the chair in the parlor, she looked out the window, pondering her options. After a while, she settled for the singed man’s sheep. They didn't move much and would look nice when drawn with charcoal. She had sketched three of the sheep scattered near the front before she looked up to see one missing a patch of its wool. The skin beneath had been covered with some sort of dressing and the surrounding wool was charred. This must have been the burning sheep she had seen upon her arrival. She shut the sketch book and placed it on the table, no longer able to concentrate on the sheep. Her frustration with her rude neighbor was too great. Her father looked up from his book in silent question.

“I saw a tea caddy in the kitchen when we arrived yesterday. I'd like to see if there is any tea in it, though I doubt it will be any good if there is. Tea is only good for a few months.” She griped as she stood from her chair and exited the room. She stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the cupboard she had seen the wooden tea caddy and silver tea set in. The wooden box was beautiful. It was built with a dark wood, decorated with elaborate carvings, and fastened with an engraved silver latch that matched the tea set. When she opened the box, the rich smells of bergamot and mint filled the air. Each of the two teas was kept in its own compartment in the caddy, the silver caddy spoon nestled snugly in its place next to the two compartments. She shut the box and moved on to the actual tea set. The pot was a good size. Not small, but not as big as the ones evening tea was served in back home. She supposed that this made sense, considering evening tea back home usually had at least fifteen to twenty people in attendance. This pot was obviously meant for smaller gatherings. The teacups were odd. They were narrower in shape and had handles, much different from the rounded bowl like cups back home. Perhaps this was an english style? A tap on the door frame drew her attention. Her father stood by the door, a light smile on his face. 

“Are you ready to go? We have five minutes.” Satya turned around and smoothed her skirts before stepping forward and taking her fathers arm. The two exited the house and began to walk towards the other neighboring house, the one not inhabited by the singed man. She knew first impressions were often wrong, but for some reason she was unable to set aside her strong distaste for the man. Miss. Ziegler’s house seemed a bit run down, but in a rustic way, unlike the pile of unorganized junk that the singed man and his mountain of a companion called home. The porch and house looked as if they had been painted white at some point, but the paint had chipped and peeled away until almost nothing remained. A few pots of marigolds sat on the front step, the yellow blooms cheerily thriving in the sunlight. Hassan knocked lightly on the door, and before long, a woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes opened the door. The woman had a kind smile and her presence seemed to radiate warmth. For a moment, Satya was reminded of her mother.

“Mr. Vaswani! Please come in! This must be Satya, it’s very nice to meet you, your father told me about you when we met this morning.” She gushed as she ushered the two inside. The house was neat and tidy and a brightly colored rug adorned the floor. “Follow me” she continued.” Tea is in the drawing room, there are some people I’d like you to meet.” Satya and her father followed Angela to the drawing room where, at the table, sat two men and a woman, all three were obviously from Asia. The woman had a pair of spectacles perched on her nose and her dark hair was secured in a neat bun with a silver hair pin, she smiled shyly when the newcomers entered the room. One of the men had short hair and and a cheerful expression, the other had stubble, long hair pulled back with a tattered tie, and his face was settled into a hard expression. Angela placed her hand on the woman's shoulder and stepped forward. 

“Mr. Vaswani, Satya, this is Mei Ling-Zhou. She came here with her family from China five years ago and has just began teaching at the school house by the train station. She’s my other neighbor.” The spectacled woman gave a small wave.  
“It’s very nice to meet you.” She quipped cheerily as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her voice was thick with an accented sotto voce. “I look forward to getting to know you, we don't get many new people here very often.” Hassan smiled warmly and gave a small bow.

“We look forward to getting to know you as well, it will be nice to have acquaintances during our stay here.” The woman smiled back before looking back at Angela. Angela walked back to the two men.

“This is Hanzo” she said, motioning first to the man with the long hair, “and Genji Shimada” she said motioning to the other. “Their family sent them from Japan to here to work in the gold mines.” Genji stepped forward and held his hand out for Hassan to shake. 

“Welcome to the neighborhood. We hope you like it here” he greeted as he returned is hand to his side. Satya noticed that Hanzo never said anything. Perhaps he wasn't a people person. Genji looked back at his brother before turning to face Hassan again.

“This is my elder brother, Hanzo. He’s a little stiff, but he’ll warm up to you eventually.” Hanzo scowled at this comment and turned to take a seat at the table in the drawing room. The table was adorned with a dark red cloth and a simple porcelain tea set. The table was crowded with eight mismatched chairs. Eight. Satya looked around and quickly counted. There were only six people here, why were there two extra chairs. She turned to Angela who was quietly conversing with Mei. 

“Miss. Ziegler, I couldn't help but notice that there are two extra chairs at the table, will anyone else be joining us?” Angela sighed and smiled before shaking her head.

“I have invited the two graziers from the end of the street, I feel sure you have seen them. They are quite hard to miss. Mr. Rutledge told me they would attend, but I feel sure if they come at all they’ll be late. Mr. Rutledge often keeps his word, but I have a feeling his roommate may be a bit difficult. Mr. Fawks can be…stubborn when he doesn’t want to do something and afternoon tea isn't quite his thing.” Satya was appalled.

“I believe you are speaking of a man who set part of his flock on fire.” She said quietly. Angela sighed.

“Yes, I know. He came to me yesterday and asked me to treat the burn. I used a great deal of my mercury supply, on an animal, no less. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to port Arthur to get more from the apothecary. It’s quite a trip, and though I don't go very often, I appreciate company when I can get it.”

Satya, still wondering how someone could stand to be in the company of such an ill mannered man, nodded.  
“ It would be nice to see Port Arthur again.” She agreed, hoping her voice didn’t sound as displeased as she felt. It wasn't Angela’s fault the singed man was such a simpleton. Suddenly Angela turned, clapped her hands once, and turned to face her company.

“Alright, I believe that everyone who’s coming is here. I’ll be back in a minute with tea, meanwhile, there is bread and pastries on the table, please help yourself.” The five guests took a seat at the table and nibbled on their bread or pastry while Angela was in the kitchen. Before long, Angela walked back into the room with a kettle, which she set on a thickly braided mat, as not to scorch the tablecloth. She pulled the lid off the pot and opened the tea caddy. The rich, floral smell of ceylon filled the room as she spooned the fragrant, dried leaves into the pot. She then poured the water over the leaves, stirred the mixture, and stuck the rod of the small strainer basket into the spout of the pot. She poured the tea into the cup of the person next to her which happened to be Genji. 

“Milk or sugar, Genji?” She asked, smiling as she propped the teapot to its former upright position. Milk or sugar? Satya had heard of the upper class using sugar in their tea back in India, but milk? It must be a European thing.  
“Milk please, thank you Angela.” Responded Genji as he reached for the handle of his teaspoon. Angela moved on to Hanzo. After pouring the tea she stood the pot upright once again. 

“Milk or—“ “No.” interrupted Hanzo stiffly. Genji turned and narrowed his eyes at Hanzo, no doubt because of the rude interaction. He appeared to be about to say something, but a loud knock at the door silenced whatever he was about to say. Angela set down the teapot and hurried to answer. Satya focused on keeping her breathing steady and remaining calm. She didn't want to see the singed man again, but if the situation forced her to drink tea with him, she would try to be civil. The door clicked as it opened.

“Sorry we’re late. The rat wouldn't wash his face.” Came the gruff baritone of the singed man’s large companion. The rat. A fitting nickname. She almost had to stop herself from laughing.  
“Don't see why it matters.” Came the oddly accented voice of the singed man. “Lil’ miss Angel over here has seen my dirty mug before. More often than not, probably. She don't care.” Satya saw Genji stiffen and glare at the parlor door when the singed man called Angela ‘lil miss angel’. Hmm. Interesting. Footsteps were nearing the parlor as the voices continued.  
“I think you look much better clean, Jamison.” Said Angela as the door clicked open. The three stepped into the parlor. Satya watched as the singed man limped over to one of the empty chairs, muttering unhappily under his breath. His companion followed him and sat next to him. It was comical, seeing such a large man in such a tiny chair. When the singed man’s gaze caught her’s, his reaction was immediate, his face forming a deeper scowl and his mouth opening. Before he could say anything, his large companion smacked him over the head and murmured what sounded suspiciously like “be nice”. Angela walked back to the tea pot, picked it up and moved to Satya’s spot at the table.

“Mr. Vaswani, Satya, this is Mako Rutledge and Jamison Fawks. They live next door to you.” She said before turning to Mako and Jamison. “ Mr. Rutledge, Mr. Fawks, this is Hassan Vaswani and his daughter Satya.” Satya notice her father become rigid. Jamison sniffed before smiling cheekily. 

“Yea yea, we’ve met before” He leaned forward in his seat. “I bet we’re gonna be the best of mates, am I right?” Satya bristled, trying to keep a calm outward expression. He might as well have just said he was going to make her life here hell. Well two could play the game of false niceties. She put on a small smile.

“It would be nice to have friends here. I look forward to getting to know you.” Angela, seemingly relieved that an argument hadn't broken out at the table, picked up the teapot and poured into Satya’s cup. 

“Milk or sugar?” She asked, motioning to the small milk pitcher and sugar bowl. 

“No thank you.” Replied Satya as she shook her head. She turned her attention back to Jamison, who appeared suspicious at her sudden change in demeanor from yesterday, as Angela continued to pour tea for her guests.

“ I couldn't help but notice one of your sheep had a bit of an accident yesterday. How is it doing?” Jamison raised an eyebrow. 

“Firecracker is doing just fine” he smirked. “Lost a bit of hair, but she’s fine.” Satya picked up her saucer and cup and sipped her tea. The flavor was light and slightly sweet.

“Firecracker” she began. “That's an unusual name, if you don't mind my saying so. Do you name all of your sheep after explosives?” Jamison’s smirk grew larger and he and gave a small laugh shaking his head.

“She’s the only one that's got a name. Y’know how sheep are pretty stupid?” Satya nodded, taking another sip of her tea.

“ That one takes it all to a whole other level. She gets herself stuck in bushes, lost in someone else’s fields, I even caught her up a tree once. Don't know how she managed to get up there. A sheep like that deserves itself a proper name, don't ya think?” Satya nodded thoughtfully as she set her teacup back down on the saucer and tried not to scoff at Jamison’s reasoning. Firecracker. What a ridiculous name. Her attention was turned as Angela took her seat, the legs of her chair scraping lightly against the floor as she pulled up to the table. 

“So” started Angela as she spooned a small amount of sugar into her tea. “What brings you to our town? I don't think I would be the first to admit that it’s not exactly the most desirable place to live.” Hassan placed the cup he had been drinking from back on its saucer.

“I have been contracted by a man in London to design and oversee the construction of new buildings and living quarters within the town. I hope it doesn’t offend you when I say that it is in desperate need of some patching at the least.” At this Mei’s face lit up.

“Will the school house be repaired? The roof leaks horribly every time it rains and the children and I have to squeeze into the corner where we won't get wet. I've written several complaints to the town board, but they never do anything and I haven't been able to find any one to fix it.” She exclaimed, picking up her cup and saucer and bringing the cup to her lips. Hassan smiled gently. 

“I feel sure it’s a definite possibility. My client has sent me a list of buildings he wants redone completely, from the foundation up, and a list of buildings he wants moved or patched. I feel sure the school will be on one of those lists.”As Mei gushed about how wonderful it would be to have an improved school building, Satya noticed Jamison's face turn sour. She spent the remainder of the tea and luncheon watching his expressions with interest, wondering what had been said to make Jamison so irritated. 

“Satya?” The sound of her father calling her name broke her concentration and she turned to look at him, inwardly cursing herself for ignoring her surroundings to stare at Jamison.

“Yes?” She answered, hoping she didn't look as caught off guard as she felt.

“Are you alright?” Asked Hassan, a mildly concerned look plastered onto his features. Satya smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“I'm fine, I apologize, I spaced out little.” She said picking up her, now cold, cup of tea and taking a sip. She could hear Jamison give a disbelieving snort from the end of the table. Had he caught her staring? Oh Satya hoped not, that would be mortifying. Hassan cleared his throat.

“ I believe it is time for us to take our leave.” He said, standing up from his place at the table. Satya stood from the table, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. As she did so, everyone began to stand up and push their chairs in. She noticed Genji speaking quietly to an annoyed looking Hanzo near the kitchen door.

“She was gracious to host us, the least I can do is stay to help her clean. If you don't want to help, you should go home.” He said. He sounded frustrated.

“Don't think I can't see what this is actually about. Father wouldn't approve, and frankly, neither do I.” Fumed Hanzo as he made irritated gestures with his hands. By then, the two brothers were receiving curious looks from the rest of the small party. Genji noticed this and placed a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Go home, Hanzo.” He sighed as he began to walk his brother to the door. Hanzo did not appear happy with this arrangement, but did not resist. As they approached the door, Hanzo turned to face his brother.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Hanzo muttered angrily. He opened the door, but didn't move. After a few seconds, Hanzo turned to Jamison and Mako and advised stiffly “You may want to retrieve your animals.” Before he storming out to the house across he street.

Satya looked out the door. A fluffy sheep stood on Angela’s porch, eating the flowers off the marigold plants by the stairs. She looked beyond the porch. Sheep stood in the road and grazed in the yards of the small neighborhood’s houses. The shabby fence in the front of Jamison and Mako’s house was empty, the gate wide open. Stuck in the broken boards of the gate, was a slightly singed sheep that was missing a patch of wool. The sheep picked up its head to look at the group, its tongue hanging out of its mouth. Jamison was right. Firecracker certainly was special. While the two sheep farmers ran out and scrambled to collect their herd, Satya, Hassan, and Mei navigated their way through the sheep to their houses. Hassan opened the door, but stopped and knelt to pick something up. It was an envelope. Satya looked to the door and saw the brass mail slot. Funny, she hadn't noticed it before. She closed the door and made her way to the parlor where her father sat to open the letter. He opened the envelope and unfolded the paper, reading it carefully.

“Who is it from?” Asked Satya, taking a seat in the vacant chair. Her father looked at her from over his spectacles before looking back down at the paper.

“It’s from the client. The governess will be arriving sooner than I anticipated. The letter says ‘Madame Lacroix will be arriving at Port Arthur on 16 July, 1872 with one of my Associates’. That's just six days from now. The client said she would arrive in no more than two weeks from our arrival, depending on how long it took to contact her of course, but I hadn't thought it would be this soon.” Her father folded the letter, stood from his chair, and walked into his office. Satya stood and followed him but stopped in the doorway. The office was a mess. The trunk her father had packed his work materials in sat open in the corner. Rolls of paper were scattered in all four corners of the room and a small basket of fountain pens and pencils sat on the desk. The desk was large and made of dark wood, it sat in front of the window placed at the back of the room. She cringed. Her father was never this disorganized, why was the room so cluttered? Satya watched as Hassan tripped over a roll of paper as he tried to make his way to the desk. He turned to look at her before smiling and laughing sheepishly.  
“ I started unpacking last night, but I didn't finish. I'll have to do that today.” He explained as he bent down to open one of the desk’s drawers to file away the letter. Satya carefully stepped around the piles of office supplies to the trunk and dug through it until she found the tall basket her father kept his paper in.

“I'll help you unpack, if you’d like” she offered as she walked to the far left corner of the room and set the basket down. She began to gather the rolls of paper and set them into the basket. Her father was quick to help.

“ I can do this on my own, you don't need to help me.” Hassan said as Satya put the last roll of paper into the basket. Satya looked at him before moving on to organize the folders on the desk by the date and then putting them neatly into a drawer.

“ I don't have much else to do, so I might as well find something to pass the time.” She responded, moving on to sort the pens from the pencils. “Perhaps I'll go for a walk as soon as we’re finished. Our neighbors should have managed to get their flock under control by then.” This last part she muttered under her breath. Her father laughed bitterly.

“ Judging by this morning, I'm not sure.” He turned to look at her, a serious look on his face. “ I want you to stay away from them. Those two were on the list our client sent us.” Satya looked at her father curiously as she laid the pens in the top drawer.

“ What list?” She asked, placing the normal sized paper for writing notes and letters next to the pens.

“ A list of the convicts in this area. Jamison Fawks and Mako Rutledge, charged with arson and murder respectively.” He replied, placing a large desk mat on the desk space in front of the chair. Satya stared, her eyes slightly wide. She hadn't thought about it, but it made sense. When the British government sent convicts here, they usually ended up taking care of sheep, farming, or running the shearing boards. The government got cheap labor and the convicted avoided the death penalty. She could believe that Jamison could have committed arson, he blew up a stove, so why not an entire city block or an important public facility. Mr. Rutledge was a little frightening. She was still a little uneasy about the fact that she still didn't know what his face looked like, but she wouldn't have gone as far as to assume he was a murderer. Satya took a moment to let the new information sink in. She would have to be careful around them in the future.

“I see” she said, her voice void of expression. “ I will take care to avoid them in the future.” Her father smiled.

“That seems like a sensible course of action.” He agreed. Satya nodded. She suddenly felt bored compared to earlier that afternoon, as if the excitement of living in a new town, if only for a year, had been sucked out of her. Why? She would have to figure that out later. Satya glanced around the office. It was significantly neater than it had been, the rest she would leave to her father to organize as he pleased.

“ I think I'll take that walk now” she stated, making her way to the door. “ perhaps I'll take a sketch book with me, to draw pictures of the town as it is now. It would be interesting to start a collection of how the town looked before, during, and after renovations.” Hassan nodded, opening a drawer to put something away.

“I look forward to seeing it.” He replied, looking up. “Try to be back before dinner, I'm going to see if I can light the stove. I stopped by the little store by on the corner this morning, they had nice looking vegetables.” Satya smiled. Though she cooked many times back home, her father often took it upon himself to make dinner. She had asked him why before and he had said it was her mother’s favorite meal to cook, he liked making dinner because it reminded him of her.

Satya left the office and walked into the parlor where she found her abandoned sketch book and pencil from that morning. She picked it up and exited the house. As she passed the next door house Satya spotted Jamison out in the fields behind his disintegrating house with his sheep. He looked young, about her age, give or take a few years. How had he managed to get himself convinced of a felony at this age? Satya felt that odd sense of boredom, sadness, and annoyance again. What was it? She shook her head lightly in an attempt to clear it. She would figure this out later.  
Satya walked down the road past the houses on the street and into town. People walked in and out of the small stores and establishments, which were arranged in two haphazard rows that faced each other. Steam poured from the pipe on the roof of the shearing board at the end of the rows of stores. Satya could identify what each little two story building sold, just by looking at the outside displays. A hardware and farm store had a display of saws and feed sacks placed just outside the window. A small grocery and produce shop had a colourful arrangement of fruits and vegetables set on a stand by the door. An establishment that that sharpened knives, saws, and shears had a painted sign depicting a man and two sharpening stones. The list of stores went on, each one looking close to falling apart.

Satya noticed a bench under the awning of one of the shops and decided it would be a good place to sit and draw. She was nearly done sketching the first row of shops before she noticed how low the sun had gotten. The town was growing dark and many of the people in the area had left, with the exception of the small saloon which was bright with lantern light and drunken laughter. Satya closed the sketch book and started the long walk home. Just before turning onto the street of her house, she bumped into someone.

“I'm sorry –“ she started, looking up to face the one she bumped into, only to see Jamison's surprised face. His face immediately turned to a scowl one he realized exactly who he had bumped into. He had a sheep over his shoulders and appeared to be headed into town.

“Watch where you're going, Sheila.” He sneered, glaring at her as if she were the most disgusting piece of garbage he had ever seen. He started walking towards town again. Satya felt that odd feeling again and turned in his direction, frustrated.

“I'm sorry “ She glowered, annoyed. “Did I do something to offend you?” He turned to look back at her, still glaring.

“Yea, you moved here.” He growled angrily. Satya walked briskly to catch up and match the man’s pace, throwing all caution of angering the alleged arsonist to the wind.

“Why does that bother you?” She asked harshly, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of frustration. He stopped and turned to face her, his face resentful. Was this the anger he had shown at the end of afternoon tea spilling over?

“You work for some kind of rich, hot shot suit in London. Hate the bastards, and the stupid people who work for ‘em. They bring noth’in but trouble.” He said stiffly, eyes burning as he seemed to struggle to control his temper. He started walking again as Satya struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

“How could you say that? All my father is trying to do is restore order to this town and rework the buildings! How is that wrong?” She was on the verge of shouting. Why was he being so impertinent?

“It’s not the building I'm worried about! It’s the suit! They're the reason I’m here! They never wanna take responsibility for their own doing, always blaming everything on someone else. You and your father are stupid if you think you're getting out of this deal without a catch.” He was fuming as he started to storm off. Satya started to follow him again before he whipped around, the sheep nearly falling off his shoulders.

“Stop following me! Leave me alone and keep your trouble to yourself, I don't want any part of it!” Satya stopped and watched him leave, the feeling from before more desolate than annoyed. Then she turned, and started walking back to her house in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Once again please tell me your thoughts, I love feedback, things I did well, things I could do better, questions, your thoughts for the next chapters, and as always, constructive criticism is always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed, I had an extremely busy week with science fair and school. I plan to reedit (is that even a word?) all of the chapters posted so far over spring break and re work a few things including renaming Molotov, who at the present moment has a historically inaccurate name, and creating a better title (If you have any ideas, please let me know!) thank you for sticking with this story, I really appreciate it.

The rest of the week went by slowly. Hassan had started to survey the town, figuring out what was where and how he might reconfigure it. This left Satya alone at the house with nothing to do. The first day, she had sat in the parlor to read a book, but the parlor felt desolate and empty without the subtle, but warm presence of her father. After that she placed a chair from the kitchen in her room. She would open the window and draw or read while her father was gone, the occasional sounds of bleating sheep the only sound she would hear for hours.

Satya saw her father a total of three times a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Any other time, he was either in town or in his office where he was not to be disturbed. In the mornings, she would watch as Jamison and Mako led their flock into the fields, then ten minutes later, Mei would walk down the street into town. She only saw Hanzo and Genji after Dusk, just before Jamison and Mako’s sheep were called into the barn. She had theorized that the brothers left before dawn to get to work at the mines. Occasionally she would see Angela leave her house around noon to get groceries, but that was the closest she ever got to social interaction. Satya knew she was welcome at the Swiss woman’s house and that spending time with Angela would ease her boredom, but she never felt like making the short walk next door to take part in idle chatter. 

Her mind had been occupied all week with what Jamison had said to her. Surely her father’s client was genuine with his intentions, Hassan had been given all identification needed to prove it. What did Jamison mean when he accused wealthy English entrepreneurs of not taking responsibility for their actions? If he Jamison been brought to court by a businessman and convicted in a fair trial, his actions were his own. Satya let out a frustrated sigh. Her irritating neighbor was so confusing. She picked up the sketchbook, which she had filled up yesterday, on her lap and began to flip through it. There was a drawing of Mei walking down the road, her apron pressed and her hair pinned in its immaculate knot. The sketch had been drawn as if she had been watching Mei walk away from behind. The next sketch depicted a scene she had seen on Sunday, the only day Genji and Hanzo didn’t work at the mine. Angela walked down the street, groceries in hand, with Genji. A pleasant smile adorned her face as the two talked animatedly. She flipped through the rest of the pages, which depicted countless drawings of sheep, the train station, and shops in the town. Satya stopped at the last page, remembering when she drew it yesterday. The sketch depicted Jamison sitting on top of a hill overlooking the fields. A sheep stood next to him, eating the grass in the surrounding area. Because she had been looking from her window, the sketch was drawn with Jamison and the sheep in the distance. Satya shut the book and looked out the window.

The sun was high in the sky. She should probably start making lunch. Satya walked down stairs and entered the kitchen. The room was painted a pale blue colour and china cabinet sat to the back of the room by the door that opened to the staircase that went up to the bedrooms and down to the cellar. In front of the cabinet was a table with four chairs and behind the table, an iron stove and wood stack. A row of shelves on the wall held baskets for vegetables and jars for flour and sugar while pots and pans hung from a rack above the table. Satya pulled a pot from the rack and took two potatoes and four carrots from the baskets. She set the vegetables and the pot on the table and pulled the match book from the top of the stove. Then, Satya opened the stove, placed three logs and a small amount of straw in the chamber, and tossed a lit match onto the straw. She shut the door to the stove, picked up the pot, and headed to the cellar. The cellar was dark and mostly empty besides four barrels. Two held clean water with a note on the top giving the address to the nearest filtration plant and the other two held beer. Satya opened the tap to one of the barrels containing water and filled the pot half way. Soon, she was back upstairs, the potatoes and carrots boiling and the room warm with the excess heat given off by the stove. Just as she was using a fork to divide the carrots and potatoes into two bowls, the door clicked open and Hassan stepped into the kitchen. He sighed as he sank into one of the chairs at the table, only looking up when Satya pushed a bowl and fork in front of him.

“Thanks, its been a long day.” He murmured quietly, spearing a piece of potato. Satya sat in the other chair and began to eat her lunch.

“What was so stressful about it?” She inquired, wondering what had happened in town.

“I was looking at the shearing board today” he started before eating another bite of potato. “I went inside to look at how the electrical and water powered parts of the electric shears were set up and one of the men shearing his sheep threw his wool comb at me.” He sighed, massaging his temple. “I couldn't go anywhere without getting a dirty look and was so pressed to get out of the board that I didn’t have the chance to get a drawing of the outside.” Satya hummed thoughtfully as she finished her meal, thinking back to what Jamison had said yesterday about people liking those hired by businessmen. 

“That’s unfortunate” she remarked, moving their empty bowls and forks to a wash bin by the stove. Hassan got out of his chair and started walking towards the door.

“I’ll be in my office. Let me know if anyone stops by or if you leave.” Satya thought for a moment before hurrying to catch her father before he got to his office.

“I think I might go out to draw for a while. Is that alright?” she asked, plan forming in her mind. Hassan smiled gently. 

“Of course, you've been inside for the last six days. It’ll be good for you to go outside. Just be careful and make sure to be home by seven.” Satya nodded before walking upstairs to get an empty sketch book. If her father couldn't get a sketch of the outside of the shearing board, she would. She wouldn't bother the sheep farmers if she was outside and she would finally have something useful to do. 

It was about three o’clock when she left. She gave a polite greeting to Mei as she passed on her way home from teaching and a hesitant wave to Mako who was sitting on his porch with a book. The town was bustling with activity as she walked down the twin rows of shops to the very end where a large, crumbling brick building stood. The light hum of the electric shears was a bit of a nuisance, but as Satya leaned against the side of a wagon half filled with rolls of wool, she found the noise was easily ignored. A few hours had passed and she was nearly done with drawing the fourth side of the building before a shadow darkened the corners of her sketchbook and the ground beneath her. Satya looked up. A scruffy man carrying a sheep over his shoulders and a lamb underneath his arm stood over her, an annoyed look on his face.”

“You work for that two-bit swindler that was hanging around here this morning?” Satya narrowed her eyes at the man as he continued. “I told him we don't care for strangers. Told him to not to come back. You shouldn't have come here.” Satya grew uncomfortable with the situation and decided to leave before things grew worse. She tried to go around the man, but he blocked her path. It appeared he had no intention of letting her leave. The man gave her a calculating look. “You related to that guy? You're too young to be his wife or business partner. You his daughter? A niece? Daughter of a friend?” Satya didn’t answer and tried to move away again. The man grabbed her arm and she forced herself not to wince as he yanked her back. “Answer me girl.” His voice was irritated and impatient.

“I'm his daughter.” She muttered sharply. The man chuckled before snatching her sketchbook and throwing it to the ground. 

“Do you know what happens to strangers?’ He asked in a dark tone. Satya was mentally kicking herself for thinking this was a good idea as she suddenly became aware of the shears that hung at the man’s belt. It was unlikely that she could fight the man, he was much bigger than she was and the only thing she had to defend herself was a pencil. The man’s grip tightened on her arm. “They leave or we dispose of them.” The pencil would have to do. Satya gripped the writing utensil and drove it with as much strength as she could manage towards the man’s face, hoping she hit something as she bolted. Based on the loud roar that erupted from the man, she had probably gotten lucky. As she ran down he street, knowing the man wouldn't be far behind, she hoped she could find somewhere to hide or that someone would notice and call local authorities. Satya had nearly reached the point where the main road broke off into smaller streets when she barreled head first into a tall figure. She spared a moment to look up and pushed down an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. Looking down at her with a surprised expression was Jamison Fawks. Hearing the loud yells of the giant that was chasing her, she started to bolt down a random street. She heard a quiet “oh shit” from behind her and the sounds of an awkward gait breaking off into a run. Jamison caught up to her easily and turned his head to scowl at her angrily.

“What the hell’d you do to set him off?” He yelled as he began to overtake her. She ran faster to try to keep up.

“He cornered me! I was only defending myself!” She answered, struggling to keep up with the sheep farmer. An arm grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off the ground.

“What on earth are you doing! Put me down!” She protested, trying to separate herself from Jamison’s side.

“You're not running fast enough!” He retorted as he began to cut across a field, weaving quickly through the sheep peacefully eating the grass in the pasture. Jamison dashed from the field and into the bushes bordering the lush, green, pastures. Satya could feel the branches scratching at her face and sticking to her clothing and hair. Before long, she could see the rotting boards of a barn peeking through the trees. Jamison dropped her and forced the door open before dragging her inside and wedging the door shut. Birds fled from the rafters of the barn through holes in the roof. A few sheep eating from a large haystack in the corner bleated at the intruders. Jamison dragged her towards a ladder that led up to a loft and shoved her forward.

“Climb. Hurry.” He urged as he gripped the sides of the ladder. Satya grabbed the first rung of ladder and began climbing. The loft was full of equipment. Shears, shovels, trowels, pitchforks, and crates covered in cloth were scattered throughout the loft. Satya watched as Jamison began to stack the crates under a hole in the ceiling. 

“Go through the hole and get onto the roof.” He stressed. Satya shot him an incredulous look.

“Are you insane?” She queried disbelievingly, eyeing the shabby state of the barn’s frame. Jamison smirked.

“Just a bit.” His face turned serious. “Now climb, unless you want to be cut to pieces and stuffed somewhere. Of all the people to piss off you sure picked a good one.”

Satya, sensing that he wasn't joking, stepped onto the crate and hauled herself onto the roof. The wooden shingles were rotting and covered in moss and she was suddenly glad she had decided to wear a dark skirt today as dirt and grime smudged her clothing and tried not to wince when she realized her neat appearance had completely fallen apart. Jamison pulled himself up next to her, laid flat against the roof, and motioned for her to do the same. Just as she had laid her arm by her side, she heard the large doors of the barn slam open. She could hear angry growls coming from the man she had stabbed, the sound of the ladder to the loft squeaking in protest under his weight, and the floor of the loft creaking as he thundered through the loft, shoving crates and tools out of the way as he trashed the building, searching for them.

“I know you're in here! Where are you hiding the girl, Jamison?” Raged the man as he flung things from the loft. As the man gave up, Satya heard him angrily storm down the ladder and slam the doors shut. The two stayed on the roof for what felt like forever, never speaking. It wasn't until Jamison poked his head up to look at the surrounding land, then looked into the hole to make sure the barn was empty, that Satya deemed it safe to move. Jamison dropped through the hole to the loft, but before she could follow, a loud crash and a yelp came from inside the barn. Satya peered into the hole in the roof to see the floor boards of the loft broken and Jamison lying in the haystack below, sheep sniffing curiously at the man lying in the middle of their food. Jamison sat up and smiled sheepishly. 

“I'm good.” He grinned. Satya resisted the urge to roll her eyes and began to look for the easiest way to get down. She spotted a beam and tugged on it. It felt stable enough, so she grabbed it, swung over to the edge of the loft, and landed on a crate that had been knocked to the side. After climbing down the ladder, she turned to look at Jamison, who was moving the sheep aside so he could get out of the haystack. While Jamison dealt with the mob of sheep, Satya sat on a crate in the corner and began to brush off her skirts and pick the leaves out of her hair. Jamison sat next to her after a moment and stared before chuckling and shaking his head. Satya frowned.

“I fail to see what is amusing about this situation.” She reproached, pulling a twig from her hair. He laughed again.

“What’d you do to get into this mess? I haven't seen him that angry since someone stole half his flock three years ago.” Jamison remarked bitterly, untangling a piece of straw from a ripped spot on his pants. 

“I believe I may have stabbed him in the eye with a pencil.” Satya explained, looking at her hands. Jamison laughed loudly, it was shrill and sounded somewhat mad, but it wasn't unpleasant. 

“Ya think?” Satya look up at him. His posture crooked and his shoulders hunched. That couldn't be healthy.

“I'm not quite sure where I hit him.” She explained. Jamison chuckled.

“Why’d ya stab ‘im?” He questioned, a light frown replacing the crooked grin he’d worn earlier.

“He cornered me and wouldn't let me leave. The situation was getting out of hand, so I dealt with it.” She reasoned as a sheep wandered over to Jamison, sticking its head in his lap. 

“That doesn’t sound like ya.” Snarked Jamison as he rubbed the right ear of the sheep. Satya gave him a doubtful look.

“You don't even know me” she scoffed “What gives you the right to pass judgement on my character when you've only spoken to me three times?” Jamison sputtered and made wide gestures with his hands.

“I didn’t know you had the guts to stab a bloke in the eye! You seem too proper to do stuff like that or even get yourself into messes like that in the first place.” He countered, rubbing the back of his head. Satya smiled lightly.

“I try not to make a habit of it.” She said, tucking her once neat, now somewhat messy hair behind her ear. She looked out the small window in the front of the barn and saw that the sun was sinking into the horizon. It must be around seven or eight. The thought registered. Her father had told her to be home by seven. She jumped up, surprising Jamison.

“Where are we? I’m supposed to be home by seven!” She could hear the slightly panicked tone her voice had taken on and tried to regain the composure she had lost. Jamison looked at her before walking over to open the doors.

“ ‘Cross the pasture is our street, might make it in five minutes if you hurry.” He directed. Satya walked briskly to the door before stopping and turning back to face Jamison.

“Thank you for helping me.” She said hurriedly before briskly walking to the pasture.

By the time she had reached her house, she was out of breath. She realized she must look like she had been run through the ringer of a washing machine, but figured she could dash upstairs and change clothes before her father saw her. She opened the front door and was about to make a dash for the stairs before her father’s voice called her.

“Satya, there you are. We thought you weren’t going to make it on time.” Satya turned to look at the parlor table. Her father was sitting in his chair, but he wasn't alone. A young man with brown hair and a trimmed beard sat on the sofa next to an elegant woman with raven hair pulled into a sleek knot. Right. July 16. Madame Lacroix was here. Satya carefully took a seat in the remaining chair, her posture straight.

“Satya, this is Madame Amelie Lacroix and Jesse Mcree. Mr. Mcree is the American representative for our client’s business. He had an empty schedule for the next month and offered to escort Madame Lacroix to port Arthur. Satya forced a small smile to her features. She was a mess. Not a good first impression.

“I'm very pleased to meet you.” She greeted softly. The woman's stone cold expression unnerved her. Madame Lacroix hummed thoughtfully and narrowed her eyes before speaking.

“Stand up. Let me look at you for a moment.” She commanded, though not harshly enough to be seen as rude. Her accent was almost too heavy to understand. Satya stood up, keeping her shoulders straight and aligned with her feet. The Frenchwoman gave another thoughtful hum. “Turn.” She said, making a small circular motion with her hand. Satya turned until she was once again facing her company. The governess stood from her seat and walked over, looking Satya up and down before picking off her glove and plucking a piece of grass from Satya’s hair.

“Were you by chance running through a forest?” She asked with a disapproving tone.

“I had a bit of a run in with an unsavory character. I apologize for my overall unseemly appearance.” She divulged. This was as close the the truth she would tell for now. Madame Lacroix set the blade of grass on the edge of the table.

“I see. A most unfortunate situation, though likely unavoidable, considering the heathens that live here. You shouldn't have been outside without an escort.” Satya nodded, sensing it would not benefit her to ignore this woman’s authority.  
“I understand. It will not happen again.” This brought a smile to the older woman’s face. Before she turned to Hassan.

“I believe I can work with this. She will be a fine lady by the time she’s introduced to society.” Hassan smiled.

“I'm sure Satya will work hard. She’s always been very diligent in her studies.” The governess nodded.

“That is a good trait to have at this time.” She turned to the man on the sofa. “Jesse, I will be able to unpack on my own. If you would like to go down the street to the pub or catch a train to your apartment in Port Arthur, I no longer require your assistance.” The man grinned.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get outa your way.” He turned to Satya and Hassan. “Nice meet’n ya, Mr. Vaswani, Satya.” And with that, Jesse Mcree left. After the door closed, Hassan stood from his chair.

“Satya, why don't you show Madame Lacroix upstairs. She's had a long journey and I'm sure she would like to unpack and get some rest. Satya nodded before walking to the kitchen door, Madame Lacroix right behind her. When they arrived at the bedroom, Satya noticed a dark coloured wooden trunk trimmed with simple but elegant carvings. Shewalked to the mahogany wardrobe and began to make a bit more room for Madame Lacroix’s clothes. The pale Frenchwoman opened her trunk and began to remove her belongings. Several books were set on the book shelf, some with english titles, others with french. Dark coloured skirts in shades of green, blue, violet, black, and gray sat, neatly folded in a stack, next to the stack of their matching bodices, embroidered with white thread. Skirts, bodices, drawers, chemises, stockings, and shoes were all things Satya recognized. But next to the items, was a large folded hoop and a piece of clothing that looked like a set of jumps, but made of thinner material with a more ridged structural support were things she hadn't seen before. Madame Lacroix noticed Satya’s curious stare.

“Have you never seen a corset or crinoline before?” She asked, a surprised look on her face. Satya shook her head. Madame Lacroix paused to look over her student’s clothing.

“It’s obvious you're not wearing a crinoline. What kind of structural garment are you wearing?” She asked, pulling more books from the trunk to stack on the shelf. 

“I own two sets of jumps. Are they not sufficient?” She asked, wondering what the difference between the two similar garments was. Madame Lacroix stopped to think on the subject.

“If you were fourteen, fifteen even, I might be satisfied. But you aren't a girl anymore. You're a young woman. Though the differences between the two garments are slight, a corset gives the body a better shape and most women in London prefer it to stays or jumps. Until we can get you one of your own, you may borrow one of mine.” Satya nodded as she placed Madame Lacroix’s skirts in the drawer next to her own. The last thing Madame Lacroix pulled from the trunk was a night gown and slippers. The governess sat on the bed and began to untwist her hair from its elaborate, braided knot. Satya, seeing this as a clue to begin getting ready for bed. As she pulled her own night clothes from the drawer, she began to listen for the sounds of her neighbor calling for his sheep. Though she wouldn't quite call Jamison her friend, he didn’t seem as bad as she had thought when she’d first met him. Even with everything that had happened today, Satya felt a happy feeling warm her chest as she drifted off to the shrill sound of Jamison calling his sheep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! As always, please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, what I did well, what I could do better, and any mistakes I made with the historical aspect (some of this information is hard to find online). Also, my lovely friend who is a small, precious gift from above that reads my crumby writing and gives me advice, told me to include my tumblr in the notes last week. I didn't put it in last week because I don't really post much, but I do ocasionally post status updates on any writing I do. I have included my tumblr as well as the tumblr of my small, precious friend, who also happens to draw really well, below. Sorry for the long note.
> 
> Me: violetskys2236  
> My precious friend: gooeysquoosh


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, im so sorry this is late, I've been up north celebrating my great aunt's 80th birthday and didn't finish editing in time for Monday, I'm so sorry about that. A few notes before this starts, I haven't, changed Molotov's name yet, but it will be changed by next week. I am still searching for a better title for this story, so if you have any ideas, feel free to let me know. Please enjoy this late chapter four, I hope you like it.

Madame Lacroix was not someone to be trifled with. This was the first lesson Satya learned from the governess, wether the Frenchwoman intended for her to learn it or not. The woman was strict and ungiving in her teaching methods. A schedule was made and followed to a T, and every wrong move she made was caught, criticized, and corrected. 

 

Lessons had started the first morning when the two women began getting ready for the day. Madame Lacroix had given Satya her extra corset and instructed her how to lace it so that it was tight enough to serve its function, but loose enough to allow enough, and only just enough, room for breathing. Satya felt squished. Every part of her torso felt as if it had been squeezed into the wrong place, and movement, though perfectly possible, was much more difficult. The governess had also explained the purpose of the crinoline, how to put it on, and how to fix petticoats and skirts over it so they laid smoothly across the woven cage. In all, Satya found the crinoline ridiculous and unnecessary, but the governess had insisted that when they had the chance, they would go to port Arthur to procure one for her. 

 

After they had gotten dressed, the two went downstairs to eat breakfast. Hassan had already left, which made Satya regret that she had not been down in time to make breakfast and see him off. She spotted a loaf of bread on the shelf that hadn't been there at lunch yesterday and assumed her father must have gone to the bakery while she was running from the angry grazier with Jamison. She cut four generous slices of the bread and warmed them by the stove as she made tea. Several times she noticed Madame Lacroix watching her as she flitted around the kitchen, setting out the teapot, sugar bowl, tea caddy, and strainer basket as well as two teacups, saucers, and teaspoons. As the two began their meal, Madame Lacroix explained how most days would work. 

 

"During the course of our stay here, I will instruct you in writing, music, etiquette, French language, needlework, and dance. Lessons will progress throughout the day in that order. I assume you know how to read. Most days, we will spend thirty minutes to an hour with each subject, depending on how much progress you are making. Today I would like to observe what you already know so I can know what I need to teach you.” After the food had been eaten and the teapot had been emptied, the two women seated themselves in the parlor.

"We will begin with writing. Penmanship is a necessary skill in English society, as communication by letter is quite common. Where do you keep pens and stationery?” Asked the governess as she moved a stack of books from the larger table to a smaller one that was placed by Hassan’s chair. Satya thought for a moment. Her father had stationery for writing letters to clients, but it felt wrong to take his office supplies without asking first.

 

“I do not own any stationery, my father has some, but I don't want to use any without asking first. I have a blank sketchbook, will that suffice?” The governess nodded thoughtfully.

 

“That’s very considerate of you. The book will be fine until we can go into town to purchase a set of stationery for you. We will do that when we have time, today even, if possible.” Satya led the woman up the stairs and to the bookshelf. She noticed her books had been rearranged when the governess had stacked her own collection in the mahogany shelves. Satya browsed the shelves until she found her sketchbooks, and pulled pulled three of the paper books bound with blue thread off the shelf. She flipped through them, hoping at least one was empty. The first one was full, but the second was empty. As she turned to put the other two books back on the shelf, she found Madame Lacroix sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through the first one she had pulled. The book was full of sketches of home, the boat, ideas for buildings that were crowded with her neat, slanted handwriting, and the sketches she had made of her neighbors.

 

"These are nice. You're very talented.” The governess’s frown deepened as she came to a sketch with a new design for the little row of shops and businesses in town. “What is this?” She asked, looking up at her charge disapprovingly, as if she already knew the answer.

 

“It’s an idea for fixing a row of buildings in town.” Satya answered hesitantly, knowing by Madame Lacroix's facial expression that her reaction wasn't positive.

 

“Why? You'll never do any sort of business as an architect. If you marry well, you'll never work at all. It's nice to show interest in what your father does, but there's no point to drawing these. Your father won't use them.” The governess flipped to the page with the sketch of Angela and Genji.

 

“How charming. Do they live next door?” Satya shook her head.

 

“Not exactly. Angela lives next door. Genji lives with his brother across the street.” Madame Lacroix looked up, seemingly alarmed.

 

“They aren't married?” She asked, a surprised tone in her voice. Satya shook her head.

 

“No. Genji just likes to talk to Angela and help her with things in his free time.” Madame Lacroix gave a hum of disapproval.

 

“That's extremely inappropriate. If she's unmarried. She should be accompanied by a brother, father, or married woman. You’d do well to remember that.” She said looking pointedly at Satya. “This sort of behavior is frowned upon.” Satya nodded. The governess flipped through a few drawings of sheep without comment until she came to the last page.

 

"Who is this?" She asked, pointing at the lanky figure of Jamison sitting on the hilltop.

 

“That’s one of our other neighbors, Jamison. He and the man he lives with are graziers.” The governess looked outside to the fields. “I see.” She commented. Madame Lacroix shut the book and took the empty book from Satya. 

 

“Now, let's focus on the task at hand. Take a pen and write the sentence ‘A gentlewoman never speaks or acts in anger’ four times. Twice in print, twice in cursive.” 

 

This was how the day began and it got progressively worse as it continued. Her writing was too simplistic and she formed her letters the wrong way, she didn't have any experience when playing an instrument or singing, and the ridiculous amount of unnecessary customs and rules considered polite in English society made her head spin. By the time lunch rolled around, Satya felt exhausted. During lunch, Madame Lacroix asked questions regarding what she had taught in the past several hours.

 

“ How would you go about introducing one lady to another?” Queried the governess, a look in her eyes that told Satya if she answered incorrectly, there would be consequences.

 

"You introduce the woman of lower social status to the woman of the higher class first, but only if the woman of higher class wishes to be introduced to the woman of a lesser social standing.” Madame Lacroix nodded. 

 

“Very good. What if one of the ladies is married?” 

 

“The unmarried woman is introduced first unless the married woman is of a lower social standing.”

 

“Good. How would you greet a woman you have been introduced to?”

 

“I would bow, exchange a pleasantry such as ‘pleased to make your acquaintance, and if the situation calls for it, shake hands.” The governess’s usual frown lightened. 

 

“You learn quickly. That’s good. After lunch, we will go over something in English society that I think you will find interesting. Something fun as a small reward, you might say. As you've learned, there are many rules regarding when and with whom you can converse. Over time, a simple language involving two common accessories, the fan and the handkerchief, was developed.” The two women placed their dishes in the wash bin and walked back up to their bedroom. Madame Lacroix pulled two items from her trunk. The first was a black fan decorated with lavender embroidery and the second was a matching kerchief. The Frenchwoman opened the fan halfway and ran her fingers gently over the fan’s ribs.

 

“This may look like a simple movement, but the movement has a specific meaning. Running your fingers through the ribs of a fan means you wish to speak with whoever your looking at.” She let the fan fall to the floor before carefully lowering herself to the ground to pick it up. “I wish to meet with you.” She opened the fan to show four sticks. “I wish to meet with you at four o’clock. This movement is done in addition to dropping your fan. The number of sticks gives whatever time you wish to meet whomever you're directing your message at” The governess closed the fan and touched it to her left ear. “Go away, I wish to be rid of you.” Then touched it to her brow. “I'm sorry.” She set the fan down and picked up the handkerchief. She swept the crisply ironed corner delicately across her right cheek bone. “The answer is yes.” She moved the kerchief to the left cheekbone. “The answer is no.” She set the kerchief down. “These are just a few simple ones you may find useful. Anyone that has ever had some place of decency in english society should be able to interpret these gestures. I'd like to see you try the ones I taught you. Do you have a fan? I know you have a handkerchief.” Satya shook her head. 

 

“I don't have one. Though it rose to extremely high temperatures in India, I was usually doing something that required use of both my hands if I was outside, so I usually just wore a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun off my face.” The governess sighed.

 

“I don't suppose there is anywhere in town that would sell a fan?” Satya thought back to when she had drawn the little downtown area.

 

“I believe there is a general store downtown that sells tea, fabric and trim, tools, and sugar. That store would be the most likely sell fans or kerchiefs.” The governess nodded and sat for a moment, thinking.

 

“That sounds like a good plan. Even if we cant find what we’re looking for, the outing could serve as a lesson in public behavior. And surely a general store will sell stationery or paper.” The governess dug a dark grey bonnet and a set of black gloves from the trunk and looked at Satya expectantly as she put them on.

 

“Are you not going to cover your hair?” Satya didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t own a bonnet and the only head wear of any sort she had brought with her was the brimmed hat she wore on the rare occasion she left her father’s office in India.

 

“I don't own a bonnet, but I have a hat. Will that be sufficient?” The governess shook her head.

 

“Don't bother. Perhaps this store also sells bonnets. If you've been running around this town without one, another day will not make a difference.” Madame Lacroix sighed, seemingly exasperated. The Frenchwoman ushered satya down the stairs and to the front door. She stopped before opening the door and turned to face her charge.

 

“Since you are unmarried, you must always be accompanied by someone when leaving the house, preferably a relative or married woman. I am a widow, formerly married. It is alright for you to walk with me. If you see someone you know and would like them to walk with us, you may offer them your arm, but do not speak to them. Offering them your arm extends an invitation that they are free to ignore, but if you speak to them, it would be a breach of etiquette if they were to deny you a response. Especially if you are speaking to a man smoking a cigar. It is considered rude to smoke in the presence of a lady and if you were to speak to him, he would have to put his cigar out so he could speak to you, and some cigars are quite expensive.” Satya nodded, taking in the new information as the two women exited the house. As they were leaving the street, Satya spotted the slim figure of Angela walking towards them. When the Swiss woman recognized Satya, she smiled and waved cheerily. Satya could almost feel Madame Lacroix’s frown deepen next to her. Angela stopped next to Satya, who glanced cautiously at Madame Lacroix before offering her arm to Angela who looked at Satya confusedly before glancing to Madame Lacroix who cleared her throat softly.

 

“Satya, will you introduce me to your friend?” Satya glanced from Angela to Madame Lacroix.

 

“Miss Ziegler, this is Madame Amelie Lacroix. She is the governess my father’s client sent to teach me.” Angela’s confused look brightened to a small smile.

 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Madame Lacroix. Mr. Vaswani told us you would be arriving sometime next week. I guess he must have gotten the date confused. I was planning to invite you over, after you arrived, just to give a you a chance to meet everyone. Well, now that you're here, is there a particular day that you’d like to come over?” Madame Lacroix forced a small smile to her face.

“I have Sunday afternoons off. That would be the most ideal time for me to come over without neglecting my job, unless that is inconvenient for you, of course.” Angela’s posture perked with the confirmation of company later in the week.

 

“ That’s wonderful! Genji, Hanzo, and Mei have Sundays off as well. We can get together for tea like we did when Satya and Mr. Vaswani first arrived!” Angela unhooked her arm from Satya’s and gave a small, awkward bow, as if she thought Madame Lacroix would berate her if she didn’t at least make an attempt at English mannerisms.

 

“Thank you for allowing me to walk with you. It was very pleasant and I look forward to seeing you on Sunday. Enjoy your trip downtown, I hope you find what you need.” And with that, Angela left, walking off to the cozy house with newly grown marigolds on the front porch. The two women walked down the street until the little shopping district came into view. Satya led Madame Lacroix to a shop near the middle of the first row, a display of tools and brightly coloured thread filling the window. A little bell rung when the door opened and a young man writing in a record book looked up, alerted by the noise. 

 

“Can I help you with anything?” The man spoke with a strong English accent. Madame Lacroix nodded.

 

“Yes. We’re looking for a fan, a bonnet, and stationery or paper. Do you sell any of these items?” The man perked up at the mention of fans and bonnets. 

 

” You’re in luck. I sell all of those items. It’s been a while since I’ve sold a bonnet or a fan, not many ladies in this part of Australia are interested in fans. They used to be one of my father’s best selling items back in Yorkshire.” The man led them to a small rack in the back of the store displaying almost a dozen half opened fans, each decorated with various patterns.

 

“The bonnets are on the next aisle and the stationery is next to the tea.” The man left to go back to his books. Madame Lacroix turned to Satya.

 

“Pick one. They’re all very nice.” Satya looked through the fans until she came to a dark blue one with white jasmine flowers and green leaves embroidered along the edge.

 

"That one is pretty.”commented Madame Lacroix, gently taking the fan from satya before furrowing her brow slightly.

 

"Are you fond of the color blue? Two of your skirts are blue and so is the binding on your sketchbooks.” Satya nodded.

 

“I do like blue. It was my mother’s favorite color, and I like to think it helps me to remember her.” The governess hummed in thought.

 

"What happened to your mother?” Satya took the fan back as madam Lacroix handed it to her.

 

“A cholera epidemic went around when I was nine and she caught the disease. She died four days later.” Madame Lacroix led her over to the bonnets.

 

“I see.” She picked up a black bonnet and ran her fingers over the lacy trim. “Just over six years ago, I lost my husband, Gerard, to illness as well.” The governess picked up a pale grey bonnet with blue flowers embroidered on the ties.

 

“Do you like this one?” Satya nodded. It was the most simple out of the ones on display. Some were brightly colored, others were trimmed with far too much lace or ribbon for Satya’s taste. The women moved to the stationery where they picked a simple, undecorated parcel of paper. The man met them at the counter and rang up their ticket. Satya was struck with a thought.

 

“How are we going to pay for this?” She asked, alarmed that she didn’t have any money with her. Madame Lacroix turned to look at satya as she pulled a few currency notes from her pocket book.

 

“My employer, also your father’s employer, has given you and your father a generous allowance to cover the cost of any expenses you have while you're here. Satya hummed in reply. This deal was good. Too good. Did this anonymous employer have ulterior motives? She stopped herself. Perhaps she was overthinking this. It couldn't be that out of the ordinary for an employer to cover some expenses if they sent their employee to another country. The boat fee was almost expected, so this could just be normal. The man wrapped their items in brown paper and sent them off with a smile.

 

“Have a nice day ladies.”He called “You too, sir. “ replied Madame Lacroix as she stepped out the door. As the two stepped down from the shop, a familiar voice reached Satya’s ears.

“Fancy seeing you here, seems I can’t go into town without see’in ya.” Satya turned to see Jamison, a sheep with its tongue stuck out and a ragged patch of wool slung over his shoulders. It bleated when it noticed it had the two women's attention. He had Firecracker with him.

 

"It’s nice to see you too, Jamison.” She could feel the governess shooting her a disapproving look. Right. If she wanted to talk to someone, she had to offer them her arm. She glanced at Madame Lacroix before offering her arm to the grazier.

 

“Would you like to walk with us?” The Grazier looked at her curiously before looking at Madame Lacroix and nodding as he took satya’s arm with his remaining one. Madame Lacroix turned her head to Satya.

 

“Satya, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Repeated the governess for the second time that afternoon. Friend? Jamison wasn't her friend, he was just her neighbor. He had hidden her from the man she had stabbed, yes, but did that make them friends?

 

" Madame Lacroix, this is Jamison Fawks. He lives next door with a man named Mako Rutledge. They’re graziers.” She noticed Madame Lacroix stiffen at Mako’s name before bowing slightly in greeting.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Fawks. Satya mentioned you today. I was looking through her sketch book, she’s quite talented you know, and I ran across several drawings of people on your street, you and your sheep included.” The governess said this stiffly, Satya figured she was only making polite conversation. The Frenchwoman also kept eying Firecracker suspiciously, as if the sheep were about leap from Jamison’s shoulders and steal her pocketbook. Knowing the sheep, that might be a legitimate worry.

 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Lacroix.” He turned to Satya. “Didn't know ya drew things, Satya. You'll have to show me this drawing sometime.” Satya nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 

 

"How have you been Jamison? Firecracker appears to be doing well.” Jamison grinned.

 

“I’ve been doing just fine. Firecracker’s not as burned as she was, but something's not right with her. That's why I brought her to town. I have a mate down at the board everyone goes to when their sheep seem under the weather , if something's wrong, he'll find it.” He said, patting the sheep’s head softly.

 

“Are you sure it’s not her usual behavior? I haven't been here very long, but in the time I’ve been here, she’s gotten herself into quite a few strange situations.” Satya asked, looking at the sheep, who was rubbing her head against Jamison’s hand, tongue still poking out.

 

“Nah, she’s been acting just like the others, I figure if she doesn’t have the energy to get into everything the way she usually does, somethin’s wrong.” He answered, returning his arm to link with Satya’s.

 

“I see. I hope she returns to her usual self soon, you seem to like her better that way.” Satya commented, looking away from the sheep that had raised its head from Jamison’s shoulder to stare at her intently.

 

“Yea, even Mako’s a bit worried about her, I can tell, even if he wont say it.” Satya nodded to show she had heard the comment. The three walked in awkward silence for a few steps until Firecracker bleated indignantly, as if to remind her keeper that they were walking in the wrong direction and needed to continue towards the shearing board. Jamison unhooked his arm from Satya’s and started to walk back towards town.

 

“Well, it was nice to see you again Satya, nice to meet ya, Ms. Lacroix. You two have a lovely day.” He said as he turned his head and walked with long strides back towards the shearing board. The two women walked in silence until they came to their front door. Satya could tell she had done something to displease the governess before the woman even said anything. The cold aura surrounding her told Satya something as very wrong. After the door had been closed and Madame Lacroix had stripped her gloves off and pulled her bonnet to hang around her neck, the governess led Satya to the kitchen.

 

“Let’s discuss what happened on this outing over tea.” The governess sat in silence while Satya boiled the water, set two cups and saucers on the table, and filled the teapot. It wasn't until satya had filled both teacups and settled in her chair that Madame Lacroix spoke.

 

“You did quite well, considering the circumstances. I only want to point out a few things about the people we encountered. Angela seems like a nice woman, but you would do well not to be seen around an unmarried woman that walks with an unmarried man in London. Such women are considered to have loose morals and it would run your name through the dirt to be seen with one. Second and most importantly” she narrowed her eyes so Satya would know she was serious. “Stay away from Mako Rutledge. Nine years ago, when I had first started teaching your father’s client’s niece, it was all over the newspapers. A man who’d worked his way up to a prominent management job in a large mill murdered seven people. He left behind a wife and two young daughters when he was sent to a penalty colony in Australia. This man was Mako Rutledge, who let the good of his family fall to his bloodlust.” Madame Lacroix took a sip of her tea before continuing.

 

“I don't know much of anything about this Jamison Fawks you introduced me to today, but stay away from Mako Rutledge. He’s extremely dangerous.” Satya nodded. She may have looked calm on the outside but she was horrified on the inside. She had only met or seen Mako twice, but he seemed like a decent person, albeit a bit scary. Satya didn’t see how he could have murdered seven people. The frenchwoman drained her cup and stood from the table.

 

“ Let’s go upstairs. We will start your lessons in french. Most of today will be learning pronunciation of the words and basic phrases. While you are reading the introduction in the front of the book we will be using, I will compose a letter to my employer concerning the location of the piano he told me would be here when I arrived. This delays my lesson plans and I am really quite cross with him.” Satya wordlessly followed, trying to process the new information. She wondered if it would be considered rude to ask Jamison the details surrounding his and Mako’s sentence. It most likely was, and etiquette stated she should keep out of their business. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn't curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker and (temporary) Molotov, will be the best of friends. Please note the sarcasm. Thanks once again for reading and have a lovely day all of you lovely people.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm not dead! I've decided to change my update schedule to once every two weeks. I'm afraid I bit off a bit more than I could chew with the once a week update schedule. Also, you may have noticed that Molotov is now Firecracker (They were invented in 7th century china). Thank you for sticking with me thus far and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The rest of the week progressed as well as could be expected. As a whole, lessons were dull. It seemed that most everything in English society prioritized form over function and almost everything, from the measures that had to be taken when presenting yourself to others to the inordinate amount of customs considered to be polite, had many exceptions and changes based on circumstance.The most interesting thing that had happened was the arrival of a letter for Madame Lacroix from Jesse Mcree regarding this piano the governess had requested. Apparently it had been shipped to the flat he was staying in at Port Arthur, a fact Madam Lacroix was most unhappy with.

On Saturday evening, Madame Lacroix called Satya down to the kitchen. The tea set, complete with the milk pitcher, sugar bowl, and silver tea spoons was set out on the table. Judging by the steam coming from the spout of the teapot and the faint smell of Ceylon, the teapot was filled. The governess motioned for satya to sit down.

“Tomorrow is the day we have been invited to tea with Miss Ziegler. I know I have pointed out some things you have been doing incorrectly when we drink tea on our own, but we have never had a lesson dedicated to how to act when drinking tea as a guest. I would also prefer not to reprimand you for ill manners at another’s house. Please take a seat, I will act as the host.” Knowing that the Frenchwoman would be analyzing any movement she made, Satya sat in her usual chair, straightened her posture, and neatly folded her hands in her lap. Madame Lacroix walked over and quietly poured tea into Satya’s cup before placing the silver pot back in its place.

“Milk or sugar?” She asked, just as Angela had the first morning spent in the town. It was most definitely a European custom.

“No thank you.” Replied Satya, thinking of the way sugar and milk must taste in tea. The combination of milk and tea seemed odd. The governess straightened her posture.

“Just for today, I would like you to try milk and sugar in your tea. Many people in Europe drink their tea this way and perhaps you will like it.” Satya nodded.

“Milk or sugar?” Repeated the governess.

“Both please, thank you Madame Lacroix.” Replied Satya as the governess added a spoonful of sugar and a small amount of milk to her cup. Satya picked up the spoon as Madame Lacroix began to fill her own cup. She stirred, the spoon making a light clinking noise against the cup. She looked up and noticed the governess flinch slightly when the spoon met the side of the cup.

“Satya, it is considered rude to make noise with your spoon when stirring your tea. Stir like this.” Instructed the governess as she picked up her own spoon and began to lightly move it through the cup, avoiding its sides. Satya copied the motion before pulling the spoon out of the cup and placing it on the saucer, careful not to make any noise. She picked up the saucer and held it by her stomach before slipping her fingers through the cups handle and taking a sip. The flavor was odd, but not unpleasant. She noticed Madame Lacroix staring again.

“Place the saucer in your lap and take your fingertips out of the cup’s handle. Instead, hold the handle between your thumb, index, and middle finger, but don't stick your fingers in the handle. It’s considered ill bred to stick your fingers in the handle. Satya corrected her posture and looked up at the governess, resisting the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long evening.

Tea was to take place just after lunch the next day. Madame Lacroix would have to leave early to catch the train to port Arthur so she and Jesse could transport the piano back to the house, but she would be attending none the less. Satya prayed by some miracle that no arguments would take place, considering Madame Lacroix’s habit of picking out every wrong move a person made and that none of the guests in attendance, to her knowledge, had any training in the ridiculous mannerisms of english society. As the two women knocked on the door, things were not looking up as Genji Shimada answered the door, smiling as he greeted them. 

“Satya, it’s good to see you again! This must be Madame Lacroix” he quipped as he turned and held his hand out for the governess to shake. “I'm Genji Shimada, I live across the street with my brother, you'll meet him once we get to the parlor.” Satya could see the frenchwoman’s lips quirk slightly in distaste as she stiffly shook the hand of the Japanese man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Said the governess, her voice void of any emotion. Satya could tell that Madame Lacroix was anything but pleased to meet Genji. Sensing the tense atmosphere, Genji’s smile drooped a little.

“Come this way, tea is in the drawing room. Mei has already arrived.” Genji turned to Satya. “Will Mr. Vaswani be joining us later? I noticed he is not with you.” Satya shook her head as the trio stepped through the doorway into the drawing room where Mei was shifting uncomfortably in her seat next to Hanzo, who wore his usual scowl.

“My father is working on a complex design for the row of businesses in town and the schoolhouse. He wants to get it done as soon as possible so he can send it to the client for approval. Mail takes quite a bit of time to get from here to Britain, and he only has a year to create the designs, get them approved, and start reconstruction. I imagine you will not see him very often.” Answered Satya. Genji sighed.

“How regrettable. I enjoyed his company when the both of you came for tea last week. He had very interesting things to say.” Satya smiled lightly to herself. She would have to tell Hassan he was well liked. The three took a seat at the table. Angela poked her head out from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Satya, Madame Lacroix, it’s nice to see you again! How are you this afternoon?” She greeted. Madame Lacroix lifted her head from eyeing the mismatched chairs and turned her attention to Angela. 

“We’ve been well. I regret to inform you that I will be leaving at one to catch the one thirty train to port Arthur. My employer sent a piano for music lessons to the flat of Jesse Mcree, a colleague of mine, who will help me to bring the piano back to the house.” Explained the governess as she fingered a run in the red table cloth. Satya noticed Hanzo’s scowl deepen and spine stiffen as he and Genji shared a look. It seemed Madame Lacroix noticed this as well.

“You seem to recognize the name. Do you know him?” Genji laughed sheepishly. 

“We had a bit of a run in with someone sharing this name. Does he happen to have a beard and wear an odd hat?” The governess sighed.

“What has that brainless American done this time?” The two brothers looked at each other again before Hanzo answered.

“We were eating dinner at the pub when Genji found the fool passed out drunk by the door. He brought the man into our home and let him stay there until the morning when he left.” The governess pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I apologize for my colleague’s behavior. It was rude of hm to impose upon you like that.” Hanzo huffed and crossed his arms as Genji laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s fine. Don't worry yourself about it.” The governess folded her hands into her lap as Angela came from the kitchen, tea kettle in hand.

“Sorry for the wait, the stove didn’t want to light this morning.” She looked around the room before sighing. “It would seem that the graziers are late again. I suppose we will start without them.” As Angela spooned the tea and poured the water into the teapot, a heavy knock sounded at the door. Angela smiled.

“That would be them. Perhaps I should give their punctuality more credit. Genji, could you get the door?” Genji nodded and stood from the table. When he returned, he was followed by the two graziers. Madame Lacroix stiffened noticeably when Mako’s mountainous figure stepped through the doorway. Angela set the teapot down and went to stand beside the new arrivals.

“Madame Lacroix, this is Jamison Fawks and Mako Rutledge. They live next door to you.” Madame Lacroix nodded, her face stern and her eyes cold.

“I know the names. Pleased to meet you.” Madame Lacroix was obviously anything but pleased. Jamison frowned.

“Wat’cha gettin at?.” Satya prayed he would leave the matter alone and that Madame Lacroix wouldn't give him an answer. It appeared fate would not be so kind.

“Newspapers. A popular source of information in Britain. Though your name is not so familiar. I believe there is a mill run by a man with the last name Fawks, though he can’t be you, he’s much older and still lives in Britain. An awful fire took place there quite a few years ago. Many people were injured or died. I can’t recall if they ever found the culprit.” Jamison was bristling. Satya was afraid he was about to attack the governess before she noticed the massive hand gripping at his shoulder. She directed her gaze to Mako. His bandana covered most of his face, but his eyes seemed gloomy. Was he guilty? Jamison seemed like he was about to say more but Madame Lacroix stopped him. 

“I apologize” she said, looking at the clock. “If I do not leave now I’ll miss my train. Miss Ziegler, would you be so kind as to watch Satya this afternoon? Unmarried women shouldn't run about with others unless they have a chaperone.” Satya noticed the subtle way the comment was pointed at the Swiss woman. She hoped Angela hadn't noticed it, that would only serve to make things more difficult and awkward than they already are. Angela nodded and seemed to be about to speak, but Madame Lacroix was already out the door. The room was left in an awkward silence. Satya felt that she should say something, but didn’t know what she should say. Should she apologize for the way Madame Lacroix had acted? That might be considered rude, but the frenchwoman had been rude to most of the people in the room within the first ten minutes she was there.

“I apologize if she offended any of you. She’s used to the customs in Britain and France. There are many things she finds unacceptable.” Angela smiled softly.

“That’s alright. I’ve met many similar people during my time in Switzerland and Germany. I believe we can all be civil in her presence. It’s her job to pick out errors in behavior, she can hardly be blamed.” Satya wasn't sure if that was the only factor determining Madame Lacroix’s behavior, but she was glad Angela hadn't taken offense. She only hoped everyone else shared the same opinion. 

Angela finished pouring the tea. This time, Satya accepted the milk in her tea, curious to see how the flavor would differ from what she had yesterday if she added milk, but not sugar. Determined to break the silence that still loomed over the table, she turned to Jamison.

“How is Firecracker? Last time I saw you, you were taking her to a friend who could tell you if she was ill.” Jamison picked up his teacup, looping his hand around the back of the cup, fingers through the handle.

“Couldn't find nothin wrong with her. She was probably jus’ havin an off day.” He took a sip of his tea, in which Angela had spooned three generous mounds of sugar. How he could stand the taste was beyond Satya’s understanding. His face still looked disturbed.

“I’m glad she’s alright.” Satya said. Trying to think of something to take everyone’s mind off the incident. She turned to Mei.

“Miss Ling Zhou, My father has begun the process of designing a new school building. I think you will find it pleasing. From what I have been able to see, the building itself will be bigger and will have more windows. If you wanted to know more or have any suggestions, I feel sure he would talk to you about what will be included in the design.” Mei smiled.

“I would like that very much! When do you think he would have time to speak with me?” She asked.

“He takes a break around lunchtime every day, perhaps you could come and join us for lunch sometime. He could probably speak with you then.” Satya replied. The table was slowly coming back to life. Genji and Angela had started a quiet conversation, Hanzo glaring at Genji from over Angela’s shoulder. She felt someone move into the seat beside her that Madame Lacroix had occupied. Jamison was pulling his teacup from his place beside Mako to his new seat before he noticed Satya’s questioning gaze.

“What? Only wanted to ask ya somthin.” He said defensively. Satya nodded to tell him to continue.

“Last time I saw you, ya said ya had a drawing of me. Can I see it?” Satya shook her head.

“Not at the moment. We are guests at an event at someone else’s house. It would be rude for me to leave in the middle of tea to retrieve my sketchbook.” The word “Sketchbook” seemed to catch everyone’s attention.

“Sketchbook?” Asked Mei. “I didn’t know you drew, Satya.” Satya nodded uncomfortably.

“Yes, Madame Lacroix mentioned she had recognized me from one of your drawings. I would be interested in seeing it if you're alright with that.” Added Angela, backing off at the end as if she had intruded into a conversation Satya wasn't comfortable with.

“I would be more than happy to show you my drawings, but Angela has prepared tea and it will get cold if we all leave.” Satya nearly cringed at how noticeable the excuse was. She really didn’t want anyone going through her sketchbook, but she felt it would be wrong to keep them from the drawings because she had drawn them at a moment when they hadn't known she was watching. It was almost an invasion of privacy. At that moment, Jamison quickly downed the rest of his tea, placed the cup upside down on its saucer, and leaned back, tapping his foot impatiently. The gesture grabbed Satya’s attention. That was considered the proper way to tell your host you didn’t want anymore tea. She had been certain that the man had possessed no manners of any sort upon her arrival, yet here he was using English mannerisms. Jamison seemed a walking contradiction. He had been down right rude and brusque when she first arrived, then he had helped her and willingly engaged in friendly conversation. Why?

Satya finished her tea and placed her cup upside down. She noticed Mako do the same thing. Well, Madame Lacroix mentioned he had been an active member of English society before he was convicted. Perhaps Jamison was similar to Mako in that way. Satya noticed Mei looking confusedly at Satya and the graziers before tentatively turning her cup upside down. Angela noticed me is confusion this and laughed lightly, breaking her conversation with Genji as she turned her cup upside down as well.

“I see we’ve all decided to be proper Europeans today.” She said with a smile as she looked at Genji, who had copied her with a confused look, then to Hanzo, who had placed his teacup beside its saucer and made no movement to change that arrangement.

“Well,” started Angela. “How would you like to do this. Do you want to walk over next door, retrieve your book, and come back, or should we all walk next door?” She asked. Satya smoothed her skirt before standing up.

“I will go and then come back. My father is working and I don't think it would be wise to disturb him.” Angela nodded. 

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll come with you. If your Governess found out I let you “run about” without a chaperone, she’d be angry. I think we can all agree it would be best not to anger her.” Satya nodded.

“Let’s go then.” The two women stepped out of the house and made their way to the neighboring one. The trip through the parlor was quiet, so they would not disturb the architect in the adjoining office. Once in the room, Satya walked over to the shelves and began to pull them from their place an flip through them, wondering if Angela would mind if she took a moment to organize the shelves. She was flipping through one of her previous sketchbooks when she noticed Angela holding one of the first ones her father had given her. On the page was a dark skinned woman with her raven hair pulled into loose bun. She sat at a loom with a basket of thread at her feet. The drawing was much messier than some of her more recent sketches, but Satya remembered being proud with the way it had turned out when she had finished it. She had been eight at the time, just a year after her father had started teaching her to draw. She remembered sitting a few feet in front of her mother’s loom, studying the scene carefully so as not to miss a single detail. 

“Who is this?” Asked Angela. Satya gently took the book from Angela, setting back on the shelf and grabbing the correct sketchbook.

“She was my mother.” She answered before walking back to the doorway. “I think we have kept everyone else waiting long enough. Shall we go back now?” Angela stood up quickly, remembering she had left her company without a hostess.

“Yes, I apologize, I had almost forgotten. We should go.” She urged as she ushered Satya out the door.

When the two arrived back at the parlor, Satya set the book down on the table before leafing through the pages to find where the sketches she had made of the town started. The first one was of Mei walking down the street towards the school, skirts neat and hairpin in place. A portion of the picture had been shaded recreate the sun’s shadows in the morning. Mei leaned in from her spot at the table to get a better look at the drawing.

“Wow, that’s nice. Did you draw this while I was on my way to the school?” Satya nodded. The page was flipped. The image of Genji and Angela talking as they walked down the road appeared. Genji squinted at the image as Angela’s face turned pink. Hanzo raised an eyebrow before turning his head to stare pointedly at his brother. Jamison seemed to notice this and started smirking. Satya flipped the page before he could make a crude comment. The next sketch showed Firecracker, patched wool and all, nibbling on a patch of dandelions, Mako in the background with a sheep under each arm.

“Oi, Mako, that’s you!” Exclaimed Jamison as he pointed at Mako’s hulking figure, mountainous compared to the sheep he carried. Satya grimaced. The proportions looked off. She would have to go back and fix it later. 

The group flipped through a few more sketches of sheep until they came to the last page. It showed Jamison sitting under a tree, Firecracker napping beside him with another sheep grazing a few meters away. Jamison studied the image. Before giving a crooked smile.

“Looks like me to me. This was made las’ week right? Only time Firecracker slept by the tree. Usually she likes that scraggly patch of weeds you drew her eat’in.” Satya nodded.

“Yes, I believe it was sometime last week. The sun looked nice and I thought a person would be a nice change from all of the sheep I had been drawing.” Jamison fingered the corner of the page thoughtfully before grinning.

“Dynamite work ya got go’in on here. It looks good.” He complimented.

“Thank you.” Replied Satya as she closed the dark blue cover of the book. Angela stood and began to take dishes to the kitchen to be washed. Genji started to help, but Hanzo grabbed his wrist and muttered something in a language Satya did not understand before pulling Genji towards the door, the younger of the brothers staring at the older with hesitant curiosity before calling out a farewell and thank you to Angela. Satya wondered what Hanzo had said to make his brother follow him without resistance. Satya stood and collected her sketchbook before walking into the kitchen. Angela stood in front of a shelf containing glass bottles of what Satya guessed were different medicinal substances as she sorted the dishes.

“Thank you for inviting me over. I had a lovely time.” Thanked Satya. Angela turned from her spot at the counter. 

“I enjoy having company. I hope you'll come back to visit me soon. The most company I usually get is a miner with a particularity bad scrape or burn and occasionally Genji on Sundays. Are you going home?” Asked Angela.

“Yes, I'd like to read or draw before Madame Lacroix returns in the morning.” Satya replied. Angela smiled. 

“That’s quite understandable. Do you want me to walk with you back to your house? I know that’s what Madame Lacroix asked of me, but if you would like to walk yourself, I think the graziers count as a pseudo chaperone and we can just tell her you were supervised.” Reasoned Angela as she turned her focus back to the dishes.

“I believe I can walk next door without any trouble. Thank you for the offer though.” Answered Satya as she turned and left the kitchen. She passed Mei,who gave her a small smile, as she walked back into the parlor. As she made her way towards the front door, a hand lightly grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. Jamison stood behind her, a hesitant look on his face, as if he wanted to ask her something but wasn't quite sure if he should.

“I noticed ya had a few drawings of Firecracker in that book. She’s miss’in a bit of wool in all of ‘em. That’s grown back mostly of ya want a drawing of ‘er with all her hair.” Satya gave him a curious look.

“Are you asking me to draw Firecracker?” He nodded.

“Yea, if ya want to.” Satya thought for a moment. She had been planning to read or draw anyway and she wouldn't have much else to do. On the other hand, both her father and Madame Lacroix had told her to stay away from the graziers. The two didn’t seem murderous or cruel, but she hadn't known them very long. For all she knew they could be just an murderous and hot tempered as the man she had stabbed with a pencil. But this could be a good chance to find out what was really going on with the two graziers. Against her better judgement, she nodded.

“That sounds nice. Thank you for the opportunity. I wasn't sure what I would do for the rest of the evening.” The two followed Mako out the door.

“I need to stop by my house to get an empty sketch book and a pencil, if you would like to go on, I will catch up.” Said Satya as she turned towards the steps of her house. Mako nudged Jamison towards the steps before walking off towards his own house. Satya walked inside and hurried up the stairs to get the book and pencil. She took a moment to re shelve the books that she and Angela had pulled from the shelf earlier before grabbing an empty book from the shelf and a pencil from the basket on the dressing table. After flipping through the book to make sure it was empty and tucking the pencil into the binding, she hurried back down the stairs and out the door. Jamison stood by the stairs, tracing patterns in the dirt with his shoe.

“So,” she began, catching his attention before continuing. “Shall we go find Firecracker?” Jamison nodded, straightening his posture slightly before turning to walk next door.

“She should be in the barn, though know’in her she’ll be stuck somewhere hard to reach.” Satya stopped at the entrance to the barn and squinted to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. Jamison was in the middle of a pile of sheep, searching through the mass of white wool to find the sheep he was looking for. After a while, he scooped one up, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it bleated in protest of being taken from the group. Jamison walked to one of the two haystacks in the barn and set the sheep down before taking a seat in the haystack, Firecracker immediately trotting to sit beside him and nibble on the haystack. Satya walked to the other haystack and took a seat, opening the book to a blank page. She looked up to observe the sheep. Jamison had started to gently pat Firecracker’s head as she happily munched on her meal.

The two sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, the bleating of the other sheep and Firecracker’s chewing the only sound in the barn.

“I was serious when I told you hot shot suits from London were bad news.” Jamison commented.

“Hmm,” Satya hummed. “Did you have an unpleasant experience with one? Surely not all business men are bad.” Jamison gave a snort of sarcastic laughter.

“Your french teacher probably spilt the whole thing. Seems like she knows everything about everyone here.” Satya shook her head.

“She told me she didn’t know much about you. The only one she told me much of anything about was Mako.” Replied Satya.

“That whole thing wasn't his fault. Willing to bet the same suit got me into this mess.” He picked up a chunk of straw and dropped it on the top of Firecracker’s head, the sheep letting out a small noise of protest before shaking the straw off her head.

“So you know this certain businessman?” She asked, shading the bit of shadow Firecracker cast on the haystack. 

“Not personally, quite a bit ‘o rumors though. A lot of people call ‘im the Kingmaker. Takes in charity cases and forces them to do his dirty work as payment for ‘is services.” He explained, scratching Firecracker behind the ear.

"What do you mean by “charity cases”?” Asked Satya, thickening the line that separated the floor of the barn form the wall. 

“Over achievers that wanna climb high in society. He turns ‘em into perfect parts of the prim an’ proper English world, everyone wants ta be associated with ‘em cause they got connections and good manners. After they’ve got a good life, he comes in and starts ask’in for favors. They start out small. Little things like helping with errands. But they get bigger and less legal as time goes by. If you quit, bad things happen.”

“Like what?” Asked Satya.

“Mako, for instance” started Jamison. “He started off in a bad place. Then, someone came and asked him to work in a mill. The manager took him in. Taught ‘im how to act in the ridiculous society he lived in, introduced him to the girl he’d marry, and when he stepped down from his job, he passed it on to Mako. He was as well off as you could be for a few years, he was happy with his wife, he ‘ad two children, everything was good. Then the guy started askin for favors. Mako fired a few people, started accepting materials from new manufacturers, small thing like that. But then he had to do things like mail strange packages or deliver things to strange people in the middle of the night. Eventually the guy met with him, handed ‘im a knife and told ‘im to kill a couple ‘o important blokes. When he tried to tell ‘im no, he threatened to kill his family. Poor bloke got caught, charged for murder, and sent here where he found me.”

Satya paused and looked at Jamison wide eyed.

“That’s horrible. Is it true?” Jamison looked up and scowled at her.

“Course it is, why else would I be tell’in ya?” Satya pulled her knuckle to her lips thoughtfully.

“What did this business man do to you?” She asked.

“I'm thinking I took the fall when someone didn’t do what ‘e wanted. My dad owned that mill the french lady said burned down. When I was just a lad, my dad let me carry crates of bobbins to the lady running the bobbin machine. She was real nice, she’d read out loud from her book propped up on the machine, always seemed to know how to make time go faster. Anyways, one day, one of the girls runnin the looms dashed towards the stairs, screeching about a fire. Before I got out, one ‘o the machines fell through the burn’in ceiling and landed on top ‘o me. By the time someone dug me out, my arm and leg were too mangled to do any good, so someone cut ‘em off. Somehow, they decided I set the fire. I got sent here, Mako found me a couple years later.” 

Satya hummed thoughtfully, looking to the place where Jamison’s shirt sleeve was tied. 

“What makes you so sure it was this Kingmaker who orchestrated the fire? Couldn't it have been someone else, or maybe even an accident? Fires are common in mills.” Jamison sat up, shaking the straw from his messy singed hair.

“They were lookin for someone to blame. If there’d been no evidence of someone startin it, they woulda passed it off as an accident. Something was found and whoever started it needed someone ta blame.” Satya nodded, but said nothing. Jamison’s face fell.

“You don't believe me, do ya.” He asked bitterly, narrowing his eyes. Satya looked up from her drawing to look at Jamison.

“What reason have you given me not to believe you?” She replied. A small smile appeared on Jamison's face and he leaned back into his haystack with a short laugh.

“Do ya always take people’s word on things as crazy as this?”Satya hummed lightly and shook her head.

“No. I'm taking your word for this because you've given me no reason to think you're lying and even if you were, you'd gain nothing from it.” Jamison went back to scratching Firecracker’s ears.

“That’s awful trusting of ya. Ever think it might get ya in trouble some day?” Satya smiled lightly and shook her head.

“Perhaps some day, but I like to think I can rely on people. If they give me reason to distrust them, I won’t rely on them.” Jamison snorted.

“That kinda thinking gets ya pushed around out here. Go with your gut, it'll usually give ya a good opinion.” Satya chuckled.

“That’s one way of thinking I suppose.” She looked out the barn door. The sun was starting to sink below the horizon. She probably should’ve started dinner a few minutes ago. She closed her book and stood from the haystack.

“It’s starting to get late. I should probably go home now. Thank you for letting me come over to draw firecracker. I think I will have a better image once its finished.” Jamison sat up from his haystack.

“Its not done yet?” He asked, the same hesitant curiosity that had been present earlier that day reappeared.

“No, not quite, I still have to fix a few things, but I think it will look better than my previous sketches of her.” Jamison stood from the haystack, Firecracker letting out a small noise of complaint as the gentle pats and scratches stopped.

“Do you want to come back to finish it sometime?” Satya thought about her sketch. She wouldn't need Firecracker or Jamison to finish the image, but the company and conversation had been pleasant and she found herself enjoying the grazier’s presence.

“I'd like that. Thank you for the offer. Does next Sunday work for you?” She put forth, knowing it would be the only day she wouldn't be under the watchful eye of Madame Lacroix. Jamison nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sounds just peachy.” He replied, dropping his hand back down to his side.

“Good.” Satya walked to the door way of the barn. “Have a good night, Jamison.” She added, before turning and walking towards her home. She could hear Jamison call out a faint “Good night, Satya.” As she disappeared from view of the barn doors. Jamison had given her much to think about. Perhaps the questions filling her mind would find an answer some day, but that would not be today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just made so many references to future characters and sub stories within this story. Kudos and cookies to you if you can guess one, but I won't confirm it. Please excuse my awful attempts at using other English speaking countries slang. The internet was not very helpful. As always, please tell me any thoughts you have, good bad, or things I need to fix, I love feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry, but this chapter is more of a filler chapter for two reasons. One, I thought Firecracker deserved her time in the spotlight, and two, I know where I'm going with this story, im just a little lost on how to get there. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The house seemed empty. Madame Lacroix wouldn't be back in town until the morning and she had only seen her father briefly at dinner before he went back into his office to work. She sat on the edge of the bed by the window and studied the drawing she had made earlier. The image depicted brought back the feeling of serenity she had felt while drawing it. It showed Jamison on his side, stroking Firecracker’s head, a soft look of contentment was settled across his sharp features. She closed the book, a small smile gracing her lips as she set it back in its place on the shelf and walked to the dresser to get her night clothes. As every night before, she fell asleep to the sound of Jamison calling his sheep to the barn. The first night she spent here, she had hated the sound. Now she found it comforting. She attributed it to the fact that it was something she had become familiar with and that the familiarity made the new town feel more like home. She wouldn't leave the town for a year and she already felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving it. She turned her head to face the window and let the darkness pull her to sleep.

When morning came Satya went through the usual routine. She dressed, made breakfast, chatted lightly with her father and went to take her usual seat in the parlor. Since Madame Lacroix’s train wouldn't arrive until eleven o’clock, she decided to read until the governess arrived. 

At ten forty, Satya heard a noise at the door. She glanced at the clock. Had Madame Lacroix managed to get an earlier train? She set her book on the table, walked to the door and opened it. No one was there. Confused, she shut the door and went back to her seat. Satya reached out to the side table to retrieve her book, but felt nothing. She looked to the table. The book wasn't there. A jolt of alarm shot through her veins. She knew she put it down on the table, where was it? A noise came from the kitchen door way. The door had been closed, who was in the kitchen? She looked around, grabbed the poker from the fireplace, and slowly made her way to the kitchen. A muffled munching sound came from under the table. Slowly, she knelt, only to be met with the fluffy face of Firecracker. Satya glared at the sheep, who was nibbling on the corner of her book’s back cover.

“How did you get in?” She asked harshly, crossing her arms. Firecracker bleated in reply before continuing to mutilate the cover of Satya’s book.

“Stop that!” Demanded Satya, pulling the book away from the sheep. Firecracker gave her a look before coming out from under the table, laying down, and placing her head in Satya’s lap. Satya shook her head and let out a sigh before reaching down to gently scratch Firecracker’s head.

“We really should get you back to Jamison. You cause him a lot of trouble, you understand?” The sheep merely readjusted her head on Satya’s lap. Satya sighed.” He’ll be looking for you. Let’s go find him” She gently pushed Firecracker’s head off her lap and stood. Firecracker looked up, stood, and began to follow Satya to the door. When Satya opened the door, she turned to see the sheep laying comfortably on the rug, seemingly with no intention of moving.

“Please don't do this.” She pleaded, exasperated. Firecracker bleated softly in return before settling her head between her front legs. Satya sighed, looking from the doorway out to the fields to see if she could catch a glimpse of Firecracker’s keeper. Spying the wild haired man out by the tree line, searching through the shrubs for his missing sheep, she walked out to the fence, extended her arm, and waved.

“Jamison!” She called, feeling a little foolish waving her arm around like a lunatic. Jamison turned his head in her direction before waving back to show that he had heard her. Satya pointed to her house.

“I’ve found Firecracker if you're looking for her!” She shouted again, letting both of her hands rest on the crumbling fence that separated the gaps between houses from the fields. Jamison started to jog over to where she was. Once he got there, he was slightly out of breath.

“Whats she gotten ‘erself into this time?” He asked hurriedly so he could save his breath.

“She’s sitting on the rug in the parlor and will not move.” Replied Satya with a frustrated tone. Jamison shook his head, chuckling lightly.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Right mess, that one.” Satya sighed in response.

“I'd appreciate it if you'd retrieve her. There will be trouble for both of us if Madame Lacroix returns to find a sheep in her parlor.” The grazier nodded before quickly walking past Satya to the front door of the house. When Satya caught up, he entered the house and looked around the parlor. Nothing but a book with the entire back cover chewed off remained of the sheep. Jamison picked up the book and picked at what remained of the binding before handing it to Satya.

“Sorry ‘bout the book. Didn't know she liked to eat stuff like that.” Satya spared her ruined book a mournful glance before setting it on the table.

“Don't worry about it, it’s not your fault. We still need to find firecracker though.” Jamison nodded, his eyes becoming serious.

“Right. Any places you think she could hide?” He asked. Satya thought for a moment.

“My father hasn't come out of his office or said anything, so she isn't in the office. There’s a latch on the door to the cellar, I doubt she would be able to open it. I believe I closed the door that went upstairs, but she opened the kitchen door somehow, so she’s either in the kitchen or upstairs.” Jamison started towards the kitchen door.

“Sounds good. Let’s start here.” It was obvious that Firecracker had been in the kitchen at some point. The baskets had been overturned and potatoes were scattered all over the floor. The door leading upstairs was opened and a potato sat on the second step. Jamison chuckled.

“At least she thought to leave us a trail.” The two started up the stairs. Satya first poked her head into her father’s room. Everything still seemed to be in order and nothing that she could tell was missing. She turned back to Jamison.

“She's not in here.” She noticed the door to the room she shared with Madame Lacroix cracked just enough to accommodate the stout, fluffy figure of a sheep. She tapped Jamison’s arm and pointed at the door, he glanced at it and nodded as the two walked towards the door. As they got closed, Satya could hear faint munching sounds and braced herself to find whatever personal item Firecracker was eating. Jamison nudged he door open with his peg leg and let out a bark of laughter. The quilt from Satya’s bed had been pulled onto the floor where Firecracker sat munching on a potato. Satya sighed in relief, glad to know her other books hadn't been subjected to Firecracker’s appetite. Jamison Walked over to the sheep, who stopped eating to look up at her owner.

“C’mere, let’s go home. It’s not nice to wander inta someone’s house and eat their grub.” Firecracker looked to Satya, then to Jamison, then back to Satya before going back to eating her snack. Jamison sighed before leaning down and grabbing the potato. Firecracker let out a bleat of protest at having lost her food and chased the potato with her mouth.

“Nope. Gonna have to follow me if ya want this back.” He said, walking back toward the door. Firecracker glanced at Satya before getting up and trotting to catch up with Jamison, who jogged through the hallway and down the stairs. He stopped at the front door and held the half eaten potato out of Firecracker’s reach before opening the door and running smack into Jesse Mcree. The two stumbled to the ground, knocking over firecracker in the collision.. Satya heard a surprised gasp come from outside.

“Jesse? Are you alright?” Came the thickly accented voice of Madame Lacroix. Satya froze. Why now of all times? They had nearly gotten Firecracker out of the house, just a minute more and this situation could have been avoided. Madame Lacroix had stepped up to the porch and was staring in obvious distaste at the pile of limbs and wool on the floor. She turned her gaze to Satya. 

“Satya, could you please explain to me what is going on here.” Firecracker’s head popped out of the pile, potato in mouth.

“I heard a sound at the door and thought you were home early. When I opened the door, no one was there but when I came back inside, the sheep was here. I couldn't get her to leave, so I called Jamison to retrieve his animal.” Madame Lacroix turned her head to glare at Firecracker, who returned the gaze, then lowered her head and dropped her potato at the governess’s feet. Madame Lacroix backed away from the half eaten tuber and turned her glare to Jamison.

“Young man, I hope you will learn to control your animal. You keep awful company and I will not allow you to ruin her reputation by lingering around her. I have been charged with her care until her father’s work is done and they depart for England. During this time, you will stay away from her. Is this clear?” Jamison stared at her before nodding and giving a sarcastic and badly pronounced “Oui oui, Madame.” Madame Lacroix scoffed.  
“Good. Now I suggest you get your animal and return it to the fields where it belongs.” Jamison stood and picked up Firecracker, who hastily craned her neck to bite into her potato, before walking towards the fence and glancing back at Satya before climbing over the fence and lifting Firecracker over his shoulders on his way back to the field. Madame Lacroix turned to Jesse, who was brushing the dust from his shirt.

“Jesse, would you be so kind as to bring the piano in?” The American looked doubtfully at the large instrument, but nodded anyway.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He muttered, walking to the wagon containing the piano. Madame Lacroix shifted her gaze to Satya before walking inside and beckoning for Satya to follow. In the parlor, Madame Lacroix sat on the couch and motioned for Satya to sit next to her.

"Take a seat." She said. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.” Satya sat by the arm rest and folded her hands in her lap.

“As I told that man, I do not want you around him or his friend. If we were in England, even acknowledging that you know that man could give you a bad reputation. In English society, reputation is everything. For you it will be one of the most important aspects of your life if you expect to marry well, which you should if you do what I tell you. It’s very hard for a woman to live alone. Most women do not work and have no reliable source of income except for their husbands. I can not tell you how important it is to stay away from people who will soil your good name. That man is one of them. I will excuse today’s incident because of how odd it was, but if he continues to linger around you, certain measures will have to be taken.” The governess stood and went to the window to see how Jesse was managing the piano.

“Do you understand, Satya?” She asked. 

“Yes, Madame Lacroix.” Replied Satya. A part of her felt as if it was sinking. 

“Good.” Replied the governess. “Once Jesse gets the piano in, we will start lessons. Since you are behind in music, we will spend the rest of the day catching up.” Satya nodded, feeling void of emotion. She didn’t know why. She hadn't known the grazier for long, they weren't close friends. “Stop.” She thought to herself. “ This kind of thinking will get you no where. Focus on the task at hand, and work to do what’s expected of you. If you work hard, everything will turn out fine. It always has.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you thought, what I did well and what I could do better. As always, constructive criticism is welcome and I wish all of you lovely people and equally lovely day!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry about being late with these updates. I have about four weeks of school left and I promise you I will update more often over the summer. Somtime the next few weeks I will probably stop updating until summer because of finals, so please don't worry if I don't update for a little while after posting chapter eight. I can promise you an eighth chapter before I stop until summer. Also, just a warning for this chapter, I scanned through it and fixed any mistakes I saw, but did not read through the entire thing, so there might be a few mistakes. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Enjoy!

The week passed by slowly. Satya emerged herself in her lessons and tried to learn everything she could. Madame Lacroix had made it clear how crucial her role in helping her family climb the social ladder was. She rarely read or drew anymore. When she had free time, she would work on learning to play the piano. Of all thing she was taught, it was what she learned most quickly, something that had surprised and pleased Madame Lacroix. Satya knew that anyone outside her house could hear the piano. There were numerous times while she was practicing that she had seen Angela and Mei stop on their way home and glance at her through the window. 

It wasn't until Saturday that Satya picked up her sketchbook again. The book was empty except for the Sketch she had made of Jamison and Firecracker. She wouldn't be seeing him on Sunday like they had planned and a pang of disappointment that she hastily shoved down reverberated in her chest at the thought. She couldn't afford to think like that now. Still, she hated seeing the drawing incomplete. She picked up the pencil and began fixing anything that hadn't been shaded enough and darkening lines. When she had finished the minor touch ups, she put the pencil down and looked to the book to examine her work. It wasn't her best work, but it still looked fine. Satya knew she wouldn't be able to keep the drawing. It only made her think of her neighbor which wasn't something she should be doing. Quiet foot steps at the door interrupted her thoughts. Madame Lacroix entered the room and sat on the edge of her bed. The governess’s eyes fell to Satya's book and she hummed in disapproval.

“When did you draw that?” She asked, unpinning her hair and pulling it out of its knot as long, dark locks tumbled down her shoulders. 

“Last week. It was incomplete, so I finished it today. I think I’ll give it to Angela and ask her to give it to Jamison next time she sees him. I certainly can not keep it” Explained Satya as she set the book back on the shelf.

“That sounds like a reasonable course of action.” The governess picked up a brush and began to slide the bristles through her hair, working out any knots. “If the situation were different and you weren't neighbors in a town with very poor postal services, the best course of action would be to mail the drawing to him. In proper society, it’s not rude, but most will look down on you if you ask another to do what you could do yourself with a note and a postage stamp.” Satya nodded. The governess paused, the brush midway through her hair.

“Tomorrow I will be leaving once again for Port Arthur. I will spend my breaks there throughout the year I am with you. I trust you will be able to look after yourself one afternoon a week?” Satya nodded with a small smile. The governess’s concern was amusing. She had been looking after for years. Her Father had often been busy with work, trying to keep them housed and fed while they were in India, but she never minded. She knew he loved her and that he would do anything to keep her safe and healthy.

"Yes, I will be fine." Assured Satya as she stood to get her night clothes. Madame Lacroix nodded, folded the quilt down, and slid her legs beneath it. 

“Good.” Replied the governess as she blew out the lamp. The room was enveloped in darkness. Satya curled up beneath the quilt and listened. Soon after she heard Madame Lacroix's breathing even out, Jamison began to call his sheep. It was odd. Trying to ignore the familiar sound of something that had lulled her to sleep was more difficult than she had imagined. Eventually she drifted off, the distant cries still ringing in her ear.

When she awoke that morning, Madame Lacroix had already left, the blue quilt smoothed neatly across the mattress without a wrinkle. She took her time tightening her corset, buttoning her blouse, and smoothing her skirts. Her father’s office door was shut, so she assumed he had already started work. After a short breakfast of bread and tea, she sat down at the piano and began the simple piece Madame Lacroix had given her. She had mastered it by now, but because she had progressed in music much faster than the governess had anticipated, she had exhausted all of the sheet music Madame Lacroix had brought, she was stuck with this piece until more music was available. Satya knew the piece like the back of her hand and played it without really looking at the music. She played the piece over and over until there was a knock at the door sometime around noon. She stopped playing and stared at the door for a few moments. They weren't expecting any visitors. She scowled at the thought of it being firecracker again as she stood from the stool and walked to the door. As she opened it, she nearly slammed it back. The frame of Mako Rutledge filled the door way, his head stooped so that he could peer underneath the top of the door frame. She remembered what Jamison had told her. For all she knew, it could have been a lie and he could still just be a cold blooded killer. Still, she opened the door wider and greeted him.

“Mr. Rutledge. I wasn't expecting you this evening. Is there something that I can do for you?” She asked slowly, unsure whether or not she should be greeting him. Madame Lacroix would definitely disapprove. The man grunted and pulled a wrinkled envelope from his pocket.

“The rat wanted me to give this to you.” He replied shortly. His eyes were calculating, as if he were trying to figure something out. Satya took the envelope. Her name was scratched across the front in messy scrawl. She looked up to Mako, who had turned and begun to leave. 

“Mr. Rutledge,” she started. He turned his head to look at her. “Jamison told me about your family.” There was an awkward pause. “When was the last time you saw them?” A look Satya couldn't identify fell over Mako’s face. He stood still before reaching into his pocket, pulling something out, and handing it to her. It was a wrinkled photograph that showed Mako standing behind a petite woman who sat in a chair and held a small child. A little girl with light colored curls knelt next to the woman's chair. Satya looked back up to Mako. 

“Send it back with your response to that letter.” He said shortly, gesturing to Jamison's letter before turning and leaving. Satya watched him walk back to his house before shutting the door and walking back to her chair in the parlor. She looked at the photo once more before flipping it over. The top border of the back was filled with neat cursive. It said “Mako, Eloise, Henrietta, and Nora Rutledge, Christmas 1862”. If this had been the last time he saw his family, that meant he hadn't seen them in ten years. She turned the photo back over and set it on the table. The turned her to the crinkled envelope. If she were smart, she would dispose of the letter and not give it a second thought.

For a long moment, she stared at the letter, unable to open it or throw it away. Finally, she gave in and broke the improvised wax seal. Though the envelope was wrinkled, the letter inside was surprisingly pristine. The same messy scrawl seen on the front of the envelope covered the page.

Satya,  
It’s a tad bit weird to be writing, Mako usually keeps the books and stuff for  
wool sales. Apologies if my chicken scratch is hard to read. I wanted to say sorry for making the frenchie mad. That had to be a right bit of unpleasantness I caused you with Firecracker. Guess you're not going to get to finish that drawing you were working on of her. Frenchie made it pretty clear she didn’t want me talking to you, but she never said anything about writing! Unless you don't want to write to me, then you don't have to answer. Heard you playing that piano the frenchie brought from the port. It sounds pretty good. Think I had a sister or cousin or something that played the piano, I don't really remember. Anyway, just checking in. Sorry if this is bad, it’s been a long time since I've written a letter.  
\- Jamison 

Satya didn’t know what to think. There were many lines that had been inked out and were unreadable. Should she respond? She looked to the table at Mako’s photograph. He had told her to send it back with her response. Had he known the contents of the letter? Regardless, she was obligated to send a letter back to Jamison. She carefully picked up the photograph, holding it by the corners so she wouldn't wrinkle it any further, put the letter back in its envelope, and made her way upstairs. She deposited the items on the top of the dressing table once she entered the room and sat at the table. It took her a while to find the drawer that Madame Lacroix had put the stationery in, but once she found it, she pulled a piece from the parcel, took a pen from the drawer, and began her letter, neat script looping across the page.

Jamison,  
I must admit, I was surprised to receive your letter today. Please do not worry about the incident with Firecracker. It has been resolved. I am not sure that sending me mail would make Madame Lacroix (Please do not refer to her as “Frenchie”) any happier than if you were to visit me. Please understand that my situation is somewhat complicated and it does not allow me to keep your company. Please also understand that this does not mean that I do not enjoy your company.

Satya paused. Was that too forward? She had enjoyed his company, but it wasn't socially acceptable in any way. She didn't want to mar her paper with the inky scribbles that had been abundant on Jamison's letter, so she decided to keep the sentence. 

I was able to finish the drawing without Firecracker and I will send it to you with this letter. I think it turned out well enough. I am glad that you find the piano music pleasing. I also find it hard to believe that you could forget a family member, especially a sister. You either do or do not have one. Your penmanship could use some work. Also, Mako gave me a photograph of his and I would appreciate it if you would return it to him.  
\- Satya

Satya carefully reread her letter before folding it neatly and slipping inside the envelope. It took her a minute to find the stick of sealing wax, but after sealing the letter, she tore the sketch of firecracker from the sketchbook and placed it next to her letter. What now? Did she send it through the mail or deliver it herself? How long did she wait before sending it?  
Madame Lacroix would no doubt disapprove of sending letters to Jamison. If she were to continue sending letters, the governess would no doubt see them and put an end to them. Sighing, she slid the letter into a small bag along with a sketchbook and pencil and made her way downstairs. She needed to do something to keep her mind off the subject. Angela had made it clear that Satya was welcome to visit at any time and Satya figured it was time to pay the Swiss woman a visit.

After making the short walk next door, Satya stepped up to Angela’s porch and stood at the door, unmoving. Taking a breath, she sharply rapped her knuckles against the door twice. The sound of something crashing followed by hurried footsteps sounded and the door cracked open just enough to show Angela’s blonde head. She smiled upon seeing her visitor and opened the door wider.

“Satya! It’s nice to see you, please come in! I'd wondered when I’d be seeing you. I have a patient right now, but if you'd like to wait in the parlor, I’ll be finished in just a moment.” Satya nodded, stepped into the house, and took a seat. Minutes later, a man covered in dirt with a bandaged arm walked out of the office followed by Angela, who handed him a small glass container.

“This is a tablet called blue mass. It’s a mercury and rose honey based medicine that’s good for pain. I want you to stay out of the mines for the rest of the week, take two of these, and come see me in the morning if your arm is still bothering you.” The man nodded, glanced at Satya, and left without a word. Angela looked to Satya, smiled, and seated herself in the next chair.

“Sorry about that. One of the miners that works with Genji wounded his arm. It wasn't too bad, but I've noticed that most men tend to make a big deal of small injuries. It's quite irritating at times and it wastes my mercury supply. Every time I run out I have to catch a train to see a pharmacist at port Arthur. He's not exactly afraid to state his opinion on women working in medicine.” Her smile faltered slightly, but she perked up as she came up with a new topic.

“What brings you here?” She asked, folding her hands into her lap. “I have a feeling I know but you should speak for yourself.” Satya raised her eyebrows curiously. Why had Angela been expecting her? 

“I needed a distraction from my thoughts. I thought that if I were to visit you it would take my mind off of recent events.” Angela smiled knowingly.  
“Well, you know that you're welcome here at any time. Genji is supposed to arrive at two o’clock, but you're welcome to stay and talk with us.” Satya looked to the clock. It was about twenty minutes until two. Perhaps she could sketch the pair when Genji arrived.

“Thank you. I appreciate your invitation.” Replied Satya, setting her bag on the seat next to her.

“I apologize for this, but will you follow me into the office? I need to put a few things away.” The Swiss woman stood and made her way towards the office, satya following quickly.

The office was small, but contained a table, two chairs, and a cabinet. A roll of bandages, a cloth, a bottle of clear liquid, and a small stack of papers remained on the table. Angela picked up the papers, opened one of the drawers in the cabinet, and pulled out an envelope which she slid the papers into before depositing the envelope back into the drawer. Angela smiled as she noticed Satya watching her.

“Files” she began. “I like to keep track of what happens to all of my patients and what I do to treat them.” Angela picked the bottle of liquid up off the table. “Alcohol. It helps prevent infection.” She placed the bottle and the roll of bandages back into the cabinet and throwing the rag into a basket. Satya took a moment to look at the contents of the cabinet. Most of it looked normal. Jars and bottles containing what she assumed to be medicines, rolls of bandages, scissors, and clean rags. The only thing that appeared out of place was a strange looking saw hanging on hooks in the back of the cabinet. Angela noticed satya’s gaze.

“That’s a bone saw. One of the only pieces of equipment I brought with me from Europe. I’ve only used it once since I’ve been here.” Angela frowned. “One time too many. It’s a terrible thing to lose a limb.” She closed the cabinet. The two women stepped out of the office and back into the parlor to take their seats.

“Where did you work in Switzerland before you came here?” Asked Satya, wondering exactly what kind of life Angela had had and what might have made her leave it. The two women sat down.

“I didn't really work in Europe. My parents ran a physicians office in Switzerland and my father taught me everything I know. When war broke out between the Germans and the French, my father decided to offer he Germans his medical assistance on the battlefield and I went with him. I could only stomach the war for a few months before it became too much. I didn’t want to stay in Europe, so I decided to go somewhere far away where I could start over. I'm the closest person to the mine that has any knowledge of medicine, so I make a decent living from any accidents that happen, and the people here are friendly.” Explained Angela. Satya opened her mouth to speak, but a knock at the door cut her off. Angela smiled.

“That must be Genji.” She said, standing and making her way to the door. Satya could hear Genji’s greeting and the heavy steps of his work boots overshadowing Angela’s light steps as the two walked down the hall. They sat on the couch across from her chair as Genji extended his greeting.

“Satya, what a pleasant surprise! How are you today?” He started cheerily. Satya smiled slightly at his happiness.

“I’ve been well, how have you been?” Genji nodded.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking.” He replied, swinging his arm to rest on the back of the couch behind Angela. “So” he began again. “What brings you here?” 

“I needed a distraction from recent events.” She hedged, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “I thought that if I were to get out of the house and find some company that it would distract me.” Genji smiled.

“Well, I think we’re glad for your company.” He quipped happily, glancing at Angela, who smiled back.” Satya looked at the two and remembered the sketch book in her bag. She pulled it out and looked back at the two who were now looking at her with curious gazes. She shifted uncomfortably at the sudden change in attention.

“I was wondering if I could draw you.” She explained quietly. The two looked at each other again before chuckling lightly.

“Of course” started Angela. “That sounds like fun, I’ve never had someone ask to draw me before.” Satya settled back into a normal position and opened the book to a clean page. 

“I must admit, when you first showed up at my door, I wasn't expecting to be drawn. Had I known I wouldn't have worn work clothes.” Commented Angela. Satya looked up noticing that Angela wore a patched apron over a simple dress and had her hair pulled up rather than the pressed skirts and shoulder length hair Satya had grown used to.

“No, you're fine.” Replied Satya before wondering why Angela had thought she’d come to see her. “Why did you think I came today?” She asked, creating a slightly curved line for the back of the couch. Angela smiled and shook her head.

"Two days ago, I was visited by a rather distraught grazier. I assume you know what I’m referring to.” She smirked, narrowing her eyes knowingly. Satya felt her face grow warm.

“I do” She replied quietly. “I assume that you’re the one who suggested he write letters?” Asked Satya, thinking of the letter in her bag.. Angela nodded.

“That’s how friends of opposite genders are supposed to communicate in english society, is it not?” Satya nodded. Jamison was “distraught”? What was that supposed to mean? They were friends, but she hadn't thought they were that close.

“What do you mean when you say he was distraught?” Asked Satya, drawing a rough circle to begin the outline of Genji’s head. Angela once again smiled slyly, as if she knew something no one else did.

“He was worried that he’d gotten you into trouble with that governess of yours. He was worried that he’d never be able to speak to you again. He was worried that Madame Lacroix would call the authorities an have Firecracker taken away. He was worried about a lot of things and he started to overthink everything until he was coming up with wildly impossible scenarios. I suggested writing letter and he immediately left to go write one. If you just now got one I’d assume he wrote many before deciding on one.” Angela’s eyes were bright with amusement. “He really enjoys your company, you know.” Satya smiled softly, briefly noticing Genji's confused face and let out a small chuckle as she began the foundation of Angela’s face.

“I'm glad I've made aquatintances during my stay here.” She murmered softly as she began to shade the underside of Angela’s chin. She had just started to sketch the outline of Angela’s hair when a loud boom caused her to streak a harsh, dark, line across the page. Angela sighed.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Or blow up another stove. Mako will forbid him from using the stove one of theses days.” Satya sighed and flipped to a new page. She would have to start over. She had only been working a minute or so when there was a knock at the door. Angela hurried to answer it and Satya could hear her sigh in disapproval once the door had been opened.

“Come in. You know where everything is. Treat your own burns.” Satya froze. The uneven gait walking down the hall could only belong to one person.

“You got it, angel wings.” Replied the sharp Australian accent belonging to Jamison Fawks. Satya only briefly noticed the way Genji bristled at the nickname.The footsteps came closer.

“G’day Shimada.” Jamison, who was covered in soot from head to toe, greeted as he stepped into the parlor. Genji only nodded in return. Jamison looked around the top of her chair to see who was sitting there and both of them froze, staring at each other until Jamison snapped out of his daze and shuffled into Angela’s office. Satya heard a poorly contained chuckle behind her and turned to see Angela smirking with the same sly, all knowing smile. Satya knew she should leave, but it felt like she was stuck to her chair. Genji looked from Satya’s frozen face to Angela’s amused one.

“I'm not sure what happened, but I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me. Will you tell me?” Queried Genji, crossing his arms. Angela laughed. 

“In a minute.” Replied Angela as she pointed at the opening office door where a slightly less soot covered Jamison walked out fiddling with a bandage on his shoulder. Angela narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you clean and dress all of the burns?” She asked, eyeing the three visible bandages suspiciously. He spooked at her and gave a somewhat guilty smile.

“Only the worst ones.” Replied Jamison, shooting a nervous look at Satya before walking towards the door.

“Jamison” she heard herself call as she felt her body dig for the letter in her bag. Why was she doing this? She felt herself stand, walk over to Jamison, and hand him the pristine and properly sealed envelope. He looked at the envelope in his hands as if he were wondering if it was really there before looking up at here with bright eyes and a light grin. He nodded his thanks at her and hurriedly hobbled out to the hall. When the clicked shut, Angela burst into laughter and Genji’s face became even more confused.

“Angela, will you please tell me what’s going on?” Asked Genji in an exasperated tone. Satya felt her face flush. What had Jamison said to Angela that made her find this situation so amusing? Letters were hardly comical unless the content was meant to be funny, so it had to be something that Jamison had said to Angela when he saw her two days ago. Genji sighed, accepting the fact that he wouldn't be getting an explanation anytime soon.

“Angela, sit down.” He placed his arm back in its original spot along the back of the sofa. “Satya came to draw us, we should let her finish.” He reminded. Angela wiped her eyes with her hand and flopped back down onto the couch, smiling. Genji smiled back at her, shaking his head before ruffling her bangs affectionately. Satya raised an eyebrow. She didn’t know exactly what kind of relationship Genji had with Angela, but from past reactions, she was sure Hanzo would be scowling at the two if he were there.

Satya was able to complete her sketch without any further interruptions as she chatted with Genji and Angela about trivial things that had happened throughout the week such as what had been happening in the mines, what kind of patients Angela had seen, and what Satya had learned that week. The end result had been a sketch of Genji smiling fondly at a laughing Angela as the two sat on the couch and talked. She had torn the sketch from the book and passed it off to Angela before bidding the two good night and walking home in the gloomy twilight. She had missed dinner, but she didn’t really mind as she made her way up to her room. Smiling softly, she walked towards the window and fell horizontally across the foot of her bed. Just as her back hit the mattress, her smile disappeared. Something was out of place. As she sat up and realized what was wrong, her smile returned. Sticking to the outside window sill was a crinkled envelope with her name written on the front in familiar, scratchy handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hate myself. I've turned Mercy into a clueless 19th century doctor. Also, I've been thinking about writing from other characters points of views or adding little bonus scenes from another character's point of view. I try to write things I would want to read (It doesn't always work out) but I tend to stay away from books that are written from multiple points of view. Please tell me what you think of this, and if you think I should add a point of view, what characters would you like me to write for? Thank you all for reading, I hope you all have a lovely day!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Crawls out of grave with laptop and tattered remains of update schedule* I'm alive everyone. This chapter is mainly me experimenting with different points of veiw, but it does further the plot, add more to the story, and set up things for future chapters. Please enjoy and I apoligise for the late update, chapter nine is in the works and will be up soon.

30 July, 1872  
Dear Satya,  
I’m glad you answered! I thought I’d gotten you in a right amount of trouble when the french dame kicked me out. Didn't see you around town like I normally do. Thought you weren't going to be able to leave the house until she died or got disgusted with this town and put herself on a boat back to France. Anyway, glad that didn’t happen. Didn't know you were friends with angel face and Genji. I don't think Genji likes me much, but angel face always helps me out when I’m in a rough spot. She’s actually the one who suggested me writing letters to you since frenchie didn’t want me seeing you. I gave mako his photograph like you asked me. He has such a pretty family. I think my family was happy to bid me good riddance when people started accusing me of starting fires and such. I wonder where they got that idea? You got any family besides that father of yours? Siblings? Mother?  
\- Jamison

 

31 July, 1872  
Dear Jamison,  
Of course I answered. It’s rude not to reply when someone has sent you a letter. Madame Lacroix wasn't angry enough to keep me in the house, though I believe that would be the case if she found me in your company again. She is not a woman to be trifled with, you’d do well to remember that. The fact that you call Angela “Angel face” may be the reason Genji is not fond of you. Angela told me that she was the one to suggest letters. I agree that Mako’s family looked happy in that photograph. He towers over them, it’s almost comical. Is he still in contact with his family? Does he write to them? I’m surprised you think it odd that you would be one of the first to blame for a fire. You’ve blown up two stoves during my time here and from Angela’s reactions, it seems to be a common occurrence. I don't have any siblings and my mother died in a cholera outbreak back in India when I was ten. Tell me a bit about your family, if you don't mind my asking.  
\- Satya

1 August, 1872  
Dear Satya,  
Why would calling angel face angel face make Genji mad? It’s not like they’re married or anything. And all the stoves were accidents. Mako doesn't write to his family. He sends them most of the money he makes shearing sheep, but I don't think he’s ever written a letter. Sorry about your mum. That must've been hard. I have a mum, a dad, and a sister back in Britain, but I doubt they want any sort of letter or money from me. I was pretty much disowned when the mill first accused me of starting the fire. Because I was a small little brat, I didn't face the death penalty, but my dad probably would've been fine if the court had decided to wring my scrawny neck. My mum’s name was Madeline, my dad’s was Warren, and my sister’s was Rebecca. Actually she might have been my cousin. Don’t remember. What was your mum’s name? What was your life like before you got here?  
\- Jamison 

 

3 August, 1872  
Dear Jamison,  
My mother's name was Aruna. Life before now wasn't all that exiting. I helped my father keep his office presentable, did small jobs for neighbors ,and that is pretty much the extent of the excitement back at home. It's quite dull compared to living on a street inhabited by people from around the world, one of which occasionally sets his stove ablaze. Mako should write his family if he’s never written them since coming to Australia. For all he knows, they believe he’s innocent. Your family sounds quite odd. They're idiotic if they truly believe a child would intentionally set fire to a multi floored building full of people. Tell me a bit more about your sister. Is she younger or older?  
\- Satya 

Amelie Lacroix POV

Amelie Lacroix was conflicted and it was all due to Satya Vaswani. Satya was one of the best students she’d ever taught. She was practical, creative, poised, and could read a situation and act accordingly. Most issues she saw when she first became Satya’s teacher were small details and things that could be fixed with only a few weeks of lessons. The girl picked up new things incredibly quickly and Amelie had no doubt that she would be a fine lady once they made it to London. There was only one problem. The girl had no taste in the company she kept. She spent Saturday afternoons with the shameless medic next door and had almost gotten herself involved with an arsonist. Thankfully she’d managed to put an end to that. Or so she had thought. Amelie wasn't an idiot, she knew of the letters. Perhaps the pair would have been successful had they used a different method to exchange letters, but a grown man climbing a battered brick wall to retrieve an envelope isn't exactly silent or subtle. The only reason she’d let it continue was because they’d be in Australia no longer than a year. Perhaps once Satya had settled into her new life in London, she would forget the distasteful man. Perhaps she should explain again to Satya exactly where she stood. She couldn't afford to keep bad company once she was in London. Satya was a big part of the plan to help Hassan advance through the ranks of society. Her boss was counting on her to be sure that Satya did her part. If she failed, she would never be able to face Gerard with a clean conscience again.

Mako’s POV after Jamison reads Satya's letter written August 3rd

The door squeaked open and slammed shut. Mako heard the tell tale clicks and scuffs of Jamison returning to the house they shared and looked over the edge of his book just in time to see the twig of a man flop lazily into a chair, letter in hand. In all honesty, he didn't know what to make of Jamison's situation. The Vaswani girl seemed nice and it appeared that she genuinely cared for Jamison's well being. He just didn’t know the extent of her feelings or how likely they were to grow. Jamison was obviously stupid for the girl. He still didn't know how that happened. The first week she was here, she was the only thing he could complain about. He second week, he seemed to have found a reason to respect her and seek out her company. The third, he was head over heels. Mako looked back over to where Jamison was reading the letter, grinning like a mad man. He shook his head and went back to his book.  
“Oi, Mako.” The large man looked up again at the words. “How long’s it been since you wrote your family?” Of all the things he could have asked he had to ask that. He hadn't written or seen Eloise since the day of his trial. She didn't say anything and she wouldn't look at him. He hadn’t seen Henrietta or Nora since before then. It had been ten years. Nora would be twelve and Henrietta would be fifteen. For all he knew, Eloise could have remarried. 

“Been about ten years, why?” He returned, looking back at his book.

“You should write to them. Send ‘em a letter or a telegram or somethin’. They might miss ya for all you know.” Mako looked back to his friend. 

“Where'd you get an idea like that?” Ha asked, narrowing his gaze at Jamison. The younger man just smiled.

“It was Satya's idea. She's pretty smart y’know? That's why I thought it worth mentionin’ to ya.” Mako huffed.

“I get it. Ya like her. You should tell her.” Jamison's smile immediately vanished.

“I can't jus’ do somethin’ like that in a letter. That kinda stuff needs ta be said in person. I’m not allowed to see ‘er, so I can’t do that.” Mako put his book on the wobbly side table and stood.

“Stop makin’ excuses cause you're scared. The french wench leaves every Saturday. Meet with her then.” Mako started to walk towards the door.

“Oi, where're you going? I'm not finished talkin’ ta you yet!” Jamison protested as Mako opened the front door?” Mako looked back before walking out.

“To send a bloody telegram.” He answered as he started towards town.

 

Angela’s POV, day after events of chapter 6

The house was empty and Angela was bored. Genji had left after dinner an hour ago, the kitchen was clean, and her work space was tidy. There was nothing more that needed to be done. She had tried reading, but nothing was interesting. Sighing, she pulled the tie from her hair, pulled off her stained apron, and headed for the kitchen. She had clothes she could wash. After filling the wash tub with water, she began scrubbing at the stains on the apron. Just as she had victoriously conquered a particularly stubborn iodine stain, her front door burst open. Startled, she tripped and stubbed her toe in her attempt to keep her balance and prevent herself from falling into the wash tub. As Jamison stormed into her kitchen, eyes wild and panicked, she glared at him, hoping he had a good reason for bursting in and startling her. He began pacing, narrowly avoiding a puddle she had made when she tripped into the wash tub. Something was obviously wrong and any hard feelings immediately turned to concern.

“She’s gonna hate me Ange, what am I s’posed to do? The frenchie’s not gonna let me talk to ‘er again. What am I s’posed to do? Why’d I let the damned sheep get away? Everything’d be alright if the stupid sheep hadn’t gotten away. What am I gonna do?” At this he looked up at her dejectedly. Angela tilted her head, tucking a soaked lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’m confused. Explain to me exactly what happened. I assume we are talking about Satya. Why would you care if she didn’t like you? I was under the impression that you disliked her.” Jamison looked at her as if she’d just told him the sky was purple.

“I did! I thought she was the prissy, stuck up daughter of a suit. Couldn’t be trusted. But she’s not. She’s nice to talk to, she’s got good taste. I don’ know. I like being around ‘er.” Angela stared blankly before breaking into laughter. Jamison looked as if he’d been slapped.

“Do you like her?” She asked, smile still on her face. Jamison looked confused.

“She’s my friend. ‘Course I like her.”Angela chuckled and shook her head.

"I’m sorry, that was unclear. What I mean to ask is if you fancy her. How much do you like her?” Jamison stared at her for a while before turning red. Angela gave a small laugh at his realization before gently grabbing his shoulder and leading him towards the front door.

“Write her a letter. That’s the way many members of the opposite gender communicate in England. She will appreciate the sentiment and technically you’re not going against madame Lacroix’s terms. Satya doesn’t hate you, she probably just doesn’t know how to contact you.” Jamison smiled at the idea. Just before leaving, Jamison pulled her into a crushing hug.

“Thanks Ange. Good idea.” Angela smiled and waved goodbye as Jamison hobbled off towards the home he shared with Mako. Angela smiled as she went back to scrubbing the stains off her apron. It would be interesting to see where this went.

 

Present time Jamison Pov

Jamison sat down at the kitchen table with a sheet of paper, a pen, a stained jar of ink. How was he supposed to ask her to meet him? Would Satya even agree to meet him? Where would they meet? There weren’t that many private spots around town. He threw the pen down on the table and sighed. He couldn’t do this. She was so perfect and he was too…everything. Too dirty, too loud, too clumsy, too everything. She wouldn’t agree to this. Mako was right, he was scared of this. He hadn’t thought he was scared of anything until now. At least Mako was facing his fear. From what Mako had told him, it wasn’t likely that they’d get a response from Ms. Eloise. He picked up the pen and started writing. If Mako was sending a telegram to his wife he had to attempt to give Satya this letter. She was worth the fear of rejection.


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Satya,  
You really don’t want to know about my sister. She’s a strange one if I remember right. Mako sent a telegram to his wife today. He hasn’t seen or wrote her in about ten years. I’ve never met Ms. Eloise, but from what Mako told me about her, she’s a pretty nice lady. Henrietta is his oldest daughter and Nora is the youngest. Based on Mako’s picture and their mother, they probably grew up to be lovely ladies too. I’ll tell you what her telegram back says if I get to read it. I hope she’ll answer it. I got a question for you. That governess of yours leaves every Saturday right? Would you be willing to come talk with me sometime? The birds roost in that big tree out on the hill in the pasture in the evening, might be something interesting to draw if you wanted to. If you don’t want to, just let me know. I understand if you have to do what the french dame says.  
\- Jamison  
\---  
Satya stared at the letter, then reread it. Were the letters not good enough? She spared a glance at the governess, who was sitting in the chair in the corner of their room cutting out a pattern from a bolt of dark blue muslin. The governess had bought the pattern paper and fabric when they were in town the other day, as well as a bolt of white cotton. She had asked Satya to wear one of her lighter coats, despite the warming weather on their trip to town the other day. It appeared she had used the same coat to make the pattern. The governess had been acting a little strange since last week. Anyone else might have shrugged it off but Satya noticed the changes. The order and time of lessons were being mixed up, Satya had more free time, and more time was being devoted to sewing and writing lessons. Satya had finished with her project, a nice black coat for her father. It was made from a pattern that Madame Lacroix had suggested and Hassan had received it with a warm smile and a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. Madame Lacroix had started giving him lists of the rules and etiquette that applied to men, but found no need for serious lessons, as men had a bit more freedom as to what they could and could not do in public. 

Satya looked back at the letter she’d hidden in the sketch book. She had really missed the company of her neighbor. He was funny, he always had things to say, and he always made her feel at ease. It felt wrong to go against madame Lacroix’s wishes and it made it so much worse that she could actually see the reasoning behind not allowing her to see Jamison. But that apparently that reasoning wasn’t good enough. She picked up her pen and pulled out a clean sheet of paper.  
\---  
Dear Jamison,  
If you do not wish to tell me about your sister I will not pry. I hope Mako receives a positive response. He deserves it. I’m not certain meeting you is a good idea. Madame Lacroix has a reason she doesn’t want me in your company. I understand her reasoning and am hesitant to go against her wishes. Please keep this in mind when I say I will meet you there at six o’clock on Saturday. I imagine the birds will have started to roost by then. I look forward to seeing you then, but please do not do anything that would risk Madame Lacroix resorting to any kind of restricting measure. I enjoy both your company and my freedom to leave the house.  
\- Satya  
\---  
Jamison stared at the letter and blinked before his face split into a massive grin. Mako could tell his business partner’s letter had received a positive response. The two men were sitting at the kitchen table. Jamison had rushed in with his letter a minute or so ago and Mako was recording the current month’s wool sales, the records from the past few months sitting neatly under a small paper weight. When Mako had first joined Jamison in raising sheep, the men had taken turns keeping the records, but Jamison’s handwriting was so atrocious that Mako had refused to let him keep the records after the first month. 

Jamison glanced from Mako, to the pen, to the stack of paper next to him. Mako sighed and pushed the writing implements across the table to where Jamison happily began to scribble his response.

“How can she read your handwrit’in?” Mako huffed, eyeing the uneven lines and illegible attempt at cursive. Jamison glanced up at him, still grinning like an idiot.

“She’s fussed at me for that. It’s gett’in better, don’t ya think?” He asked cheerily, holing up the letter for Mako to see. Mako eyed it doubtfully.

“I’ll say it’s better when I can read it.” He muttered in reply, turning his attention back to the records and scowling when he remembered Jamison had his pen. He waited patiently until Jamison finished his letter and returned the pen. Just as Jamison was walking out the door, Mako threw the paper weight at him. The small square of iron hit its target at the middle of his shoulder blades, causing Jamison to whip around.

“Oi! What was that for?” Mako turned back to his work.

“Don’t mess this up.” He advised as he neatly stacked his papers and began writing once again. The younger grazier smiled as he walked out the door.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Mako watched as the younger man made his way to the house next door. He wondered how long it would take for Eloise to respond to his telegram, if she sent a response at all. 

\---  
Eloise,  
Before this letter actually starts I want you to know that you aren’t obligated to respond or even to continue reading this. For all I know you’re remarried and have a happy life without me, I know that’s what I wanted for you after the court sent me to Australia. A friend of my business partner here suggested I write to you. I’m not sure if that was a good idea or not, but his words were “She’s pretty smart, so I thought it worth mentioning.” How have you been? How are Henrietta and Nora? Based on their ages they should have started finishing school by now. Henrietta should be close to finishing if I remember rightly. I just wanted to know how you’ve been doing.  
\- Mako Rutledge  
\---  
Eloise Rutledge flitted through the kitchen working on dinner. Nora and Eloise would be home soon and it was nearing dinner time. Just as she had the stove lit and a pot of water on the stove, there was a knock at the door. She frowned. Nora and Henrietta never knocked before they came in and they rarely received mail. She walked to the door, opened it slightly, and peered through the crack. A boy wearing a couriers uniform who couldn’t be more than thirteen stood patiently with a bag slung over one shoulder and a folded piece of paper in one hand. She opened the door completely, deciding there was no immediate danger. 

“Telegram for a Mrs. Eloise Rutledge?” He asked, squinting as he read the name. Eloise nodded.

“I am she.” She answered, gingerly taking the telegram from the boy. The messenger gave her a serious look.

“I’d read that as soon a possible. Came all the way from Australia. Must be important if someone’s sending you a message from that far away.” Eloise blanched as the boy tipped his cap to her and left, wishing her a good evening. Had something happened to Mako? She hadn’t heard from him since the trial. She knew he still thought of them. He sent them money once a month. It was nice to know he still thought to take care of them. She hadn’t known how they were going to live when they’d first sent him away. She’d managed to get a half day shift at a mill working one of those water powered looms, but that barely provided enough money for food.

Eloise stared at the telegram as she walked through the house and collapsed into a kitchen chair, boiling water long forgotten. She read the telegram. Then she reread it. She read it three times over and didn’t notice how time had passed until she was shocked out of her stupor by the hand of her eldest daughter gently coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Mama?” Henrietta asked, a concerned look taking rest upon her pale features. Nora’s little blonde head poked out from the kitchen doorway, her curious gaze resting upon the telegram. Eloise smiled and gave a shaky laugh.

“I’m alright dear, don’t worry about it.” She folded the telegram and stuck it int the band of her apron.

“Mama, who’s the message from? Asked Nora as she pulled her own apron from the hook and tied it around her waist. The little girl walked to the cupboard and pulled three potatoes from the basket. Henrietta followed suit and grabbed the dishes to set the table. Eloise thought of how she’d answer the question.

“Well,” she started carefully. “It’s from your Papa.” An aluminium plate clattered to the floor.

“Papa?” Asked Nora, a look of surprise spreading across her face. 

“Yes.” Answered Eloise as she added more water to the pot to replace what had evaporated. 

“Papa.” Repeated Henrietta in an agitated tone. Eloise turned to look at her eldest.

“Henrietta, is something wrong? I know it’s unexpected” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Everything.” Spat Henrietta as she continued setting the table, a bit more force going into placing the plates on the table. “But it doesn’t matter. You obviously won’t answer it.” The kitchen was silent. Henrietta turned and cast a disbelieving look at her mother.

“You’re not planning on answering it, are you?” She asked, the venom in her voice increasing. Eloise straightened her features, hoping she didn’t look as uneasy as she felt.

“We haven’t heard from him since he went away. Of course I’m going to answer it.” She replied quietly. A plate slammed roughly to the table and a fork clattered to the floor.

“Why? He did something he knew would take him from us.” Henrietta reasoned angrily as she bent down to pick up the fork. “He should be here. With us. He shouldn’t need to send a telegram.” Nora set her vegetables on the table and took the spoons from her sister.

“This could be nice,” began Nora as she tried to calm Henrietta. “Perhaps we will be able to reconnect with him.” Henrietta huffed.

“You didn’t know him Nora. You should stay out of this.” Nora pulled out a chair and pushed her sister into it.

"I don’t remember much, but from what I remember, he was nice. I remember he would read to us when he got home. Maybe he just didn’t know how to contact us until now.” Henrietta narrowed her gaze at her younger sister.

“Telegraphs have been around for years Nora. If he wanted to get in contact with us he’s had plenty of options.” Nora picked up her vegetables again and handed them to her mother. 

“Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he didn’t think we wanted to talk to him.” Henrietta stood quickly from her chair, ignoring how it clattered to the floor.

“He’s a murderer! Of course we wouldn’t want to talk to him!” Eloise slammed the knife she was using to slice the vegetables Nora had brought her on the side of the stove, ignoring how the iron appliance burned her hand.

“Stop this.” She ordered cooly. She turned her gaze to Henrietta. “I won’t have you speaking of your father that way. Regardless of what he has or hasn’t done or where he has or hasn’t been, I’m answering the telegram. Go calm down and join myself and your sister for dinner afterwards. This conversation is over.” Henrietta briskly walked out of the kitchen. Eloise smelled something burning as Nora quickly rushed to the other side of the stove.

“Mama, your hand.” She fretted quietly as she wet the corner of her apron and dabbed at her mother’s burnt palm.  
\---  
Mako,  
I’m glad you’ve finally decided to write us. I’m well and so are the girls. Both have started finishing school and are doing very well, though Nora tends to spend time going through the books you left behind when she should be doing other things. You would be proud of them. I do not want to talk about the trial. I know we will have to eventually, but for now I’d rather write of happier matters. How is Australia? You mentioned you had a business partner and that your business partner had a friend. Tell me about them. What sort of business do you do? I want to know all about the people you’ve met there and what your life is like now.  
\- Eloise  
\---  
Jamison waited by the tree in the pasture. He had called the sheep in early, so the field was empty. He’d been there since five thirty and just as Satya predicted, the birds were starting to flock to the sturdy branches of the enormous tree. At five fifty five, he saw Satya exit her house. She was dressed for the warm weather in a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a light coloured skirt. She had a sketch book and a blue shawl tucked neatly under her arm. He stood from the roots of the tree as she came nearer, a grin making it’s way across his features. 

“G’day.” He greeted as she approached the tree. Satya gave him a small smile.

“Greetings.” She returned. She squinted against the setting sun as she looked up into the tree.

“I see the birds are here. You’re right, they will be nice to draw.” She set her sketchbook on a particularly large set of roots and draped her shawl over a low hanging branch, ignoring a nearby bird that eyed her suspiciously. Picking up her sketchbook, she gently lowered herself to the ground, smoothed her skirt, and looked up at him. 

“It’s good to see you again, Jamison. How have you been?” Satya asked, as she picked up her pencil. 

"I've been good, how ‘bout you?”he asked, still grinning as he lowered himself to the ground next to her.

“Very well, thank you.” Satya replied as she glanced at the tree and began to draw. Jamison leaned his back against the tree trunk, unsure how to continue the conversation.

“Wat’cha been doing this week?” Jamison asked, picking a piece of grass and tearing it in half. Satya chuckled lightly and looked up at him.

“I don’t believe you would be interested in my lessons with Madame Lacroix. We sew, we write, we converse in french, and she teaches me dance and etiquette. It’s not terribly interesting.” She looked back down at her sketch book and resumed outlining the tree. Jamison gave no other answer than a hum. 

“What have you been doing this week?” Satya asked, glancing up at him. He dropped his shredded piece of grass and picked up another.

"Not much. Watched the sheep and called ‘em in at the end of the day. ‘Bout time to cut their wool off, so I’ll probably do that next weekend. The board’s always empty on the weekend.” He prattled, dropping yet another piece of shredded grass.

“Why’s that?” Asked Satya as she finished the tree and began outlining a bird. Jamison shrugged.

“I guess no one wants to shear their sheep on a weekend.” He surmised, stretching out so he laid against the tree. Satya, hummed lightly, acknowledging the answer. The two sat in silence as the sun set and the stars came out. Satya couldn’t help but liken them to the splash of freckles splayed across Jamison’s cheeks. Unable to see the page, she closed the sketchbook and set the pencil on the cover.

“Do you miss anything about Britain?” She asked aloud as she leaned back against the tree next to Jamison. He hummed thoughtfully in reply.

“ ‘Don know. Can’t say I missed the weather. It was always raining, and if it wasn’t ‘t was cloudy. The streets smelled in the city, though ya always got used to it after a bit. Was always fun ta watch the people, an’ the antique stores were always nice. Can’t say if I like liv’n here or there better.” Satya nodded in reply, making a mental note to look for an antique store when she moved to London.

“How ‘bout you? Ya miss anything ‘bout India?” Asked Jamison, turning his head to look at Satya. 

“I suppose I miss the simplicity of living there. Most everything was predictable.” She paused. “I miss the rainy season. Even though I would always end up soaked, I could go outside and there would be few people in the streets. The rain really never bothered me, so I suppose I shall like the dreary British weather.” She pulled the sketchbook into her lap and tugged her shawl from the branch. Jamison watched as she wrapped the blue fabric snuggly around her shoulders and looked back up at the sky.

“You can see the stars well from here. When I lived in India, the smog from factories and passing trains made it difficult to see many stars.” She commented thoughtfully as she gripped the edge of her shawl.

“It’s a bit like that in London too.” Remarked Jamison as he watched her face thoughtfully. She was pretty, wrapped in a shawl and curled up against the tree trunk. A piece of her hair had fallen from its carefully pinned knot and he had to fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. They sat next to each other in silence, before Satya carefully stood.

“It’s late. I should go, I’ve stayed longer than I intended. Thank you for inviting me here, I enjoyed it.” Jamison nodded.

“Yeah, we should do it again sometime.” He replied. Satya nodded back before carefully collecting her things and tucking them under her arm.

“That would be lovely. Good night, Jamison.” He stood and watched her walk back to her house before walking back to his own in an ethereal state of happiness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this took so long to upload. I added another character and I had a bit of trouble trying to get her point of veiw not to be out of character. The new character will probably look like an original character, but she's not. If you can't figure out who she is in the game, it will be in the ending notes, but I think I gave enough clues. Please let me know if it is extremely confusing and I might change it back but my reasoning for changing her name is included in the notes below.

My dearest Amelie,  
This is the seventeenth letter I've sent you since the incident and you have yet to answer. Because I know you've read what I’m about to tell you sixteen times before, I'll be brief. We both had terrible responses to a terrible situation we brought on ourselves resulting in rash and poorly made decisions. In a little less than a year, we will have the chance to start over. I hope you will be able to forgive both me and yourself at that time. Please respond, I miss you terribly.  
\- Gerard Lacroix  
\---  
Amelie frowned at the letter. She had promised herself that despite her conflicting thoughts, she wouldn't answer the letters or make her decision to go back to France until after the year was over and she was free from all contracts and debts. He was dead to her, yet he still lived. She was brought out of her thoughts by a loud sound of protest coming from the other room. The tell tale thunk of boots alerted her to Jesse’s arrival. The American stopped in the doorway, the corner of his own letter crinkled in his fist and an incredulous look on his face.

“Did y’know about this?” He demanded shaking the letter at her. She smirked and folded her own letter neatly in her lap. It seemed the American had finally discovered his place in the plan. She’d been wondering when her employer would grant her request for help.

“I see you've been informed about Olivia.” She quipped, amused at Jesse’s obvious internal suffering.

“Why does it gotta be Olivia?” He groaned, slumping against the doorframe, hat falling from its perch atop his head. “Do ya know how much she hates me? What makes it worse is that she knows everything! I can't do anything without her knowing! A man needs his secrets, y’know?” He lamented as he picked up his hat and walked over to collapse onto the sofa beside her. Amelie gave a light hum of laughter.

“It's no fault of mine that she dislikes you. You tend to pull away much of her uncle’s attention and time and she dislikes that. The two of you bicker so much I have no doubt you’ll pass for siblings.” Jesse turned to gape at her.

“We don't even look like each other!” He paused, noticing her smirking face before scowling. “You're enjoying this, aren't ya?” He accused, narrowing his eyes. She gave him no other answer besides a sigh and an exasperated shake of her head. 

"I would start packing, you move at the end of next week. Might I remind you that Olivia won't have the patience to wait for you to pack without nagging.” Jesse gave her a horrified stare before rushing to the back room to pack his trunk. Amelie shook her head. She didn't think Olivia was terribly unbearable. Though the girl was an awful gossip and often poked her nose a little too much into people's business, she could be quite serious when needed. Not the best student she’d ever had by far, but still, one she was proud of. She looked back at her letter and made her way back to her room to compose a reply, hopefully the only one she'd ever have to send.  
\---  
To he who reads this,  
My husband is dead. He was ill when I married him, though I hadn't known at the time. Had I known we would both suffer for it, I would have never married him. This illness is called greed, a pathogen that clings to the hearts of men and women from the time of their birth to the day they die. It swallows some and spares others. I hope you are one of the lucky ones, unlike my Gerard. I ask that you respect my memory of him as he was and discontinue writing such disrespectful nonsense. You will receive no further answer than this if you continue.  
Sincerely, Amelie Lacroix  
\---  
Satya stood next to Madame Lacroix as she watched Jesse unpack a wagon. She pitied the American. He was working hard as a young woman about her age followed after him, chattering constantly. Jesse was obviously irritated. Unable to hold her curiosity, she turned to her teacher.

“Madame Lacroix, are you aquatinted with the lady moving in next to the Shimadas?” Madame Lacroix glanced at her student before returning her gaze to the bickering pair.

“That would be Olivia, Jesse’s sister. It was determined that the commute back and forth to Port Arthur was too tedious and that it would be more efficient if Jesse were to move here. Olivia didn’t like the flat they shared, so she decided she would move here with him rather than stay behind.” Satya could see that Madame Lacroix wasn’t telling her everything. No one had mentioned Jesse having a sister. She shrugged it off. Perhaps Olivia had little quirks that weren’t exactly favorable. It certainly seemed possible, Olivia had been one of Madame Lacroix’s students and the Frenchwoman wasn’t the type to speak ill of her pupils. Satya returned her gaze to the siblings, an amused smile on her face.

The young woman, Olivia, spotted the pair on the porch, and excitedly hurried towards them. Madame Lacroix grimaced as Olivia crushed her former teacher in an affectionate embrace.

“Madame! It’s been forever!” The woman’s gaze caught onto Satya. “Aww, have you replaced me already? That’s a shame, I thought we were friends.” Madame Lacroix stiffly returned the embrace.

“We’re not friends.” She placed a hand on Satya’s shoulder and gently pulled her closer. “This is Satya, my current student.” She looked from Satya to Olivia before giving Marie a polite smile. 

“Would you like to come in for tea? Satya found a wonderful blend of black tea and spices while we were in town yesterday, you must try it.” Olivia smirked and looked at Satya.

“She never misses a chance to practice social skills, does she?” Satya hesitantly returned the smile.

“No, but I suppose that’s what makes her such a good teacher.” Satya hoped it was a good answer. This was the first woman that had experience with english society outside of Madame Lacroix that she had come into contact with. It was imperative that this meeting goes well.

The three women stepped inside to the kitchen. Satya went about pumping water into the kettle and lighting the stove. When she opened the cupboard to get the teapot, it was gone. Turning, she found Olivia placing the dishes on the table as Madame Lacroix watched curiously from the doorway. Satya opened the pot and used the tea caddy to spoon four scoops of the tea leaves into the pot. One scoop for the governess, one for Olivia, one for herself, and one for the pot. When the kettle whistled, she filled the pot with hot water and stuck the rod of the strainer basket into the spout.

“It smells nice.” Commented Olivia as Satya filled her cup. Satya nodded.

“The spices make it fragrant. The blend contains cinnamon, clove, and star anise, all of which are strong smelling.” Olivia smiled, lifting the cup to her lips and smelling the liquid before taking a tentative sip and giving a light hum of surprise.

“It’s very different from most of what I’ve had before. Not bad.” She decided as she took another sip. Satya gave a polite smile as she took her seat.

“I’m glad you like it.” She replied, glancing over to Madame Lacroix. The governess looked pleased, so she assumed she was doing well.

“How has your uncle been, Olivia? Is business well?” Asked Madame Lacroix, a question that told both girls to move the conversation along. Olivia sighed.

“Too well. You’ll tell me I shouldn’t complain, but he never has time to spend with me anymore.” Madame Lacroix shot her a curious look.

“Have you no friends? Surely they can keep you entertained. Gossip is certainly your strong suit, though I can’t say I approve of that particular hobby.” The governess narrowed her eyes at that part. Olivia grinned.

“If you know all of the information, you have many more options in society. I find it’s helpful to be informed. You can get invitations to all of the good social events if you know the right person, and I know everyone.” The grin turned into a frown.

"Still, gossip is only so much fun. There are only so many scandals and secrets. I enjoy my uncle’s company and he’s fond of me. It’s... disheartening when he doesn’t have time to spend with me.” Satya nodded to show her sympathy. She loved spending time with her father and her father loved spending time with her, but there was so little time they had to spend with each other. Olivia straightened up and plastered a smile on her face.

“Oh well, business is business. At least I get to spend time with Jesse. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.” The smirk returned and Satya was nearly certain that “spending time” with Jesse consisted largely of testing the American’s patience. She wondered what Jamison would think of Olivia.  
\---  
Jamison was worried. He’d sent Satya a letter for the past three days and received no response. He hadn’t seen her in town either. Had the Frenchwoman found the letters? He was sure he’d been careful. There was a new neighbor, so he figured he’d see her when Angie decided to be neighborly and throw a welcoming party, but if Madame Lacroix had found the letters, would she even allow Satya to attend? He looked to Mako who was reading something he’d gotten from a bored-looking boy that knocked on the door. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he could tell he was happy. 

“Oi, what’s that?” Asked Jamison, desperately wanting to think of something other than how much trouble he’d gotten Satya into. Mako glanced up at him before returning his gaze to the paper. 

“Telegram.” He replied as he continued to read. Jamison raised an eyebrow.

“Yer wife?” He asked, unable to keep the surprise off his face. Mako had been sure he wouldn’t receive a response. The man nodded.

“Well” prompted Jamison. “What’d she say?” Mako held up a finger, signaling he hadn’t finished reading. Jamison fidgeted in his seat as he waited for the man to finish. He practically pounced when Mako set the telegram on the side table.

“What’s it say?” He demanded, trying to sit still and failing. Mako chuckled.

“Eloise’s good. Henrietta ‘n Nora are doing well in school, Nora likes books, and Eloise wants to know about you ‘n Satya.” Jamison blinked. That was it? They hadn’t seen each other in years and that’s all she wanted to know? Maybe it’d get better after a bit. Jamison slumped back into his chair. Mako grunted, taking in Jamison’s disappointed expression.

“ y’ heard from her lately? Haven’t seen y’ writing.” Jamison shook his head.

“Nah, haven’t heard from her for three days. Y’ reckon something happened?” Mako looked at Jamison thoughtfully before shaking his head. 

“Don’t matter if something happened. You’ll see her on Thursday.” Mako remarked, picking up a book from the side table. Jamison looked confusedly at his business partner.

“What’s on Thursday?” He asked, wondering what would possibly get Madame Lacroix to let him within a five-foot radius of Satya. 

“New neighbors. Angie wants everyone over for tea so we can introduce ourselves. She asked everyone this morning.” Mako turned a page in his book, signaling he was finished talking. Jamison gave a hum of acknowledgment and walked out to sit in the barn. Firecracker looked up from her haystack at the intruder and bleated happily when she recognized her caretaker. He walked over to sit in the haystack, chuckling when the sheep plopped gracelessly to the ground with her wooly head on his remaining knee. 

“Wish I knew what she’s doing. Think you could go to her house again for me?” The sheep bleated softly in reply, squirming into a more comfortable position.  
\---  
Dear Jamison,  
I know it’s only been three days, but I’m curious as to why you haven’t written me. The new neighbor is a former student of Madame Lacroix’s, but she doesn’t act like Madame Lacroix at all. She’s much less formal in her speech and she doesn’t seem to care much of what other people think of her. Her name is Olivia. I’m not sure if you’d like her or if she’d irritate you, but I think I’ll like getting to know her. Please write soon, I miss your letters.  
\- Satya  
\---  
Jesse was miserable. It had only been three days, but Olivia was going to be the death of him. When he’d first met his boss’s niece, he’d liked her. She was pretty, had a sense of humor, and knew exactly how to push people’s buttons. It was so funny to watch even the most self-possessed person’s composure crumble at her poking and prodding. That was until she'd had time to poke her nose into his business. How she found out any of what she knew was still a mystery to him, but she became a complete menace after that. He was startled from his thoughts at the sound of the door. 

“Ay, brother. I’m home.” Sang Olivia as she waltzed in from the hall and sat in a chair at the kitchen table. Jesse snorted.

“I’m not your brother.” He responded shortly. “Y’ get what y’ need in town?” Olivia huffed disapprovingly.

“You honestly believed that? I wasn’t in town. I was procuring information.” She smiled giddily and gave a sigh of contentment as she flopped across the arm of a nearby chair.  
“I love this town. So many secrets. Isn’t it fun?” Jesse shook his head.

“I’m jus’ the chaperone. Mak’in sure y’don’t cause too much trouble.” Olivia laughed.

“Aww, don’t be that way. Don’t you want to know what I found?” Jesse sighed and reluctantly turned his head. Olivia pulled four sheets of wrinkled paper from her pocket. One was covered in neat flowing script, the other three in illegible scribbles.

“Love letters. Isn’t it sweet?” Jesse leaned in closer to get a better look.

“Y’can’t really call those love letters. Nothing lovey about them.” Olivia snorted.

“Oh, please. Read between the lines, Jesse. The arsonist is obviously head over heels. Madame’s student returns his feelings, she just doesn’t know it yet.” Jesse shook his head and turned back to the table.

"Stay out of it Olivia. I don’t got a good feeling about this. If you get hurt I’m screwed. Your uncle would kill me if his little shadow got into trouble on my watch.” Olivia laughed as she flopped back over the arm of the chair.

“Don’t worry. I never get caught. And my uncle wouldn’t kill you, you're practically his son.” Jesse only worried more at that statement. How did he get himself into these situations?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured it out, Marie is Sombra. I changed it because Sombra means shadow and isn't the most common name. I read a fic where the author renamed Sombra and even though I was confused at first, the reasoning made a lot of sense. I apoligise if this was super confusing. (Edit: Just found out sombra's real name, I have changed it)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, at this point I'm really trying to move the story along because I have so many ideas for a later part of the plot and I need to establish a few things before moving on. This chapter is shorter, but full of needed information. Enjoy!

27 August, 1872  
Dear Uncle,  
Madame was right to be concerned, but I don’t think there are any real issues here. The elder Vaswani works all day and his daughter is always occupied until the weekend. As far as the little fling between Satya and the arsonist, I don’t think there is much need for concern. Once the year is over and the Vaswani’s leave with Jesse and myself to go back to London, her logical mind will take over and she’ll and abandon what ties may have formed in favor of helping her father advance through society. But just in case, I’ve included a few letters that were meant to be exchanged, this way, you may decide for yourself. Don’t worry, these are copies I have made and I will return the actual letters to their intended recipients. On a completely unrelated, but still important note, there is some interesting information I’ve picked up from poking around your little town. The Swiss woman that lives down the street treated Prussian soldiers from the war of 1870. I believe she moved here shortly after the firs year of the war to escape bad memories. She’s currently being courted by the younger of a pair of Japanese brothers. I couldn’t find much on them, all I know is that they slave away in the gold mines and that they have no obvious reason to. Their family is disgustingly wealthy. From what I could find, the little Chinese school teacher has an unusually clean record. Nothing tremendously bad or good. She’s very happy that the schoolhouse here will be getting a new roof and several windows. I think your biggest concern would be the man the arsonist works with. If he figures out that Vaswani is working for you, it will be bad. He is not happy with you. Write soon, Jesse and I miss you!  
\- Your favorite niece  
\---  
Jamison knocked at the door, listening for the sound of Angela’s feet running down the hallway. Instead of hearing the sound of hurried feet and the squeak of the door slowly opening, the door opened almost immediately. It wasn’t Angela. A tan brunette wearing a lavender coloured dress and violet bonnet stood at the entrance, smiling.

“Greetings. You must be Jamison and Mako. You’re not as late as Angela expected.” Jamison and Mako exchanged questioning glances before looking back to the girl. At that moment, Angela came running to the door.

“Mr. Rutledge! Jamison! You’re early!” She noticed the glances passed towards the girl. “I see you’ve met Olivia, isn’t she lovely?” The two men awkwardly nodded in agreement, wondering what was so lovely about this girl. Angela smiled and looked from Jamison to Mako.

“Let’s not just stand here, come inside. For once you’re one of the first here.” The two stepped inside and followed the two women to the parlor where Jesse sat. The American looked up at the two and gave the them a tip of his hat.

“Nice to meet y’ again. I’m Jesse, but y’ knew that. Jamison nodded stiffly, remembering the incident with firecracker and the piano. Olivia smiled thoughtfully at Jamison’s apparent unease.

“Madame and Satya will be here soon.” She began. “I offered them the use of my sewing machine. A nifty little invention. Madame’s had her sewing like a mill girl. I pity her. English fashions are quite the pain.” Jamison tilted his head in question.

“Why would she need an English dress? Clothes she has work just fine, right?” He asked, wondering why the governess thought anyone here would care if Satya dressed like an English lady or not. Olivia gave him a look of pity. the look one gives a chicken they're about to kill. Amused at the bird's unsuspecting stupidity, but still pitying. Jamison was suspicious. The newcomer obviously knew she knew something he didn’t and was about to make a point. Stupid english folks, always beating around the bush.

“They work for life here, but she’s a merchant’s daughter. And her father will be relatively wealthy by the end of his contract. In England, she’ll be of a pretty respectable status. Not at the top, but far from the bottom. Society expects you to dress to show your status, that’s just the way things are done. Surely you must remember. You lived there before you were sent here.” Jamison shot a wary glance at Olivia. How much did she know? Surely she had only heard the basics from Madame Lacroix, but the expression on her face seemed to suggest she knew more. He remembered now. His mother and sister had worn dresses that were fancier than the women in the mills, but he remembered thinking the mill girls only dressed that way for work purposes. He hadn’t been very old when he was charged with arson and sent to Australia. 

“You say that like she’s leav’n tomorrow. It’ll be years before the new buildings are up. Why would she need them so early?” He asked, giving the girl a look. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“They only need to stay while Mr. Vaswani completes the building designs. Anything they need him for regarding construction can be relayed through a telegram. My guess is they’ll leave a month or so into the new year. Mr. Vaswani has until next June to complete the project, but I doubt it will take that long at the rate he’s working.” Answered Olivia as she gently knocked the hat off a bored looking Jesse. Before Jamison could answer, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Angela scurried to the door. 

“Genji! Please, come in!” There was a pause and the sound of feet as the door closed. “Will Hanzo not be joining us today? He usually joins us for tea.” The two stepped into the parlor.

“No, I’m afraid not.” He responded. “My brother has business in town he needs to attend to. He won’t tell me what, but it seems to irritate him.” There was a clattering noise and everyone turned to see Jesse who had fallen from his chair and was scrambling to get up. He stopped when he noticed everyone was staring.

“I forgot to pick up a package.” He mumbled as he hurried from the parlor. Genji stared after him.

“A package? The post office doesn’t close until five. Could it not have waited?” Olivia sighed at the miner’s question. 

“I never know with him. He’s always been a strange man.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders. Jamison narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling this girl knew exactly what was going on. Another knock sounded from the door. He froze. It had to be Satya. Hanzo wasn’t coming and Mei would still be working at the schoolhouse. The door opened.

“Madame Lacroix, Satya. It’s lovely to see you again.” Angela led Madame Lacroix followed by Satya into the parlor. Both women, like Olivia, wore bonnets and carried fans to ward off the sun and steadily warming weather. “Olivia tells us you’ve been sewing all morning. I trust you made lots of progress? It seems you have a lot of work ahead of you.” The Frenchwoman smiled politely.

“Yes. It may seem like a good deal of work, but I expect we will have everything finished and packed away by the end of next month.” Satya’s gaze caught his as she lowered herself into a chair in between Olivia and Madame Lacroix. He watched as she hesitantly glanced at Madame Lacroix before closing her fan and taping the end with her index finger. At the motion, Olivia smirked. Jamison squinted at her, clearly not getting the message. He looked to Mako, hoping the other man had seen and could make sense of the gesture. It obviously held some significance if it had pulled a reaction from Olivia. Mako looked at him, then looked to Satya. Realizing Jamison hadn’t understood, she repeated the motion, drawing another smirk from Olivia and a chuckle from Mako. He shot Mako a frustrated look. Mako leaned over to him.

“She wants to talk to you.” He muttered. Jamison looked back to Satya and nodded. By then, Angela’s other guests seemed to have realized a wordless exchange had taken place, but they couldn’t figure out what had been said or who had said it. The somewhat cheerful atmosphere had turned awkward and confusing. It was at this moment Angela waltzed into the parlor, cheerfully oblivious with the kettle and tea caddy in hand.

“Tea’s on!” She sang, scooping fragrant leaves into the teapot.  
\---  
Jesse sat at the table of the pub, bored out of his mind. Across the room sat Hanzo Shimada and two other men. He would have to ask Olivia who they were when he returned home. He was supposed to be listening in on the meeting, but it seemed he and Olivia had forgotten one little detail. The Shimada’s spoke Japanese. So there he sat, a lukewarm meal and a glass of cheap ale in front of him, hoping to pick up a sliver of English if there was one to be found. Occasionally, he would pick up names. He heard Genji’s name mentioned the most, maybe four or five times. Angela’s surprisingly came up once or twice and he thinks he heard Vaswani in there at some point. Then he caught a name that made his breath catch. He decided, at that point, that his task was complete, leaving the pub with one question in mind. What did the Shimada’s know about Jack Morrison?  
\---  
My dearest little shadow,  
You are my only niece, that makes you my favorite by default. Do not act as if it is that great an accomplishment. I believe you are right in the regard that Mr. Vaswani’s daughter’s relationship with Jamison Fawks is of no issue to her future in London. Tell Madame there is no need to worry unless it becomes an issue with her education. I would also like you to forward the letters from Gerard Lacroix that I have included in this letter. The man is pitiful. After she shoved off his letter he began sending me letters asking for advice and updates since she herself will not send them. He is dreadfully sorry for dragging her into the mess he made and I know she regrets many of the things she said and did to him before she had to leave him. I almost pity the poor, stupid man. Keep an eye on both Mako Rutledge and the Shimada’s. We cannot afford mistakes at this time.  
Your loving uncle, Gabriel Reyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, you had probably figured out by now who sombra's uncle was by now, but there's the answer anyway. I hope all you wonderful people have an equally wonderful day.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter is super fluffy and much cheesier than what I usually write. We actually get somewhere this chapter. Yay plot development! Please enjoy! I'm sorry if it's too cheesy, I haven't written on this story in a while and it may take a chapter and a bit of scanning other chapters for me to get back on track.

Hanzo,  
There has been evidence that we are under suspicion. Be wary of any newcomers and watch what you say around others. We have been entrusted with this important task and it is imperative that neither you nor your brother make any further mistakes. Tell Genji that after this is all over, he may stay in Australia if he so chooses, though I am hesitant to allow it. He expressed his concerns in a letter to me. I’m not sure what I think of this woman he’s become so infatuated with. Tell him to be careful. She may not be what she seems.  
Shimada Sojiro  
\---  
Hanzo looked to the sofa where his younger brother had fallen asleep only minutes ago. It was late at night and the only light in the house came from his lamp which had nearly burned through its kerosene. He had wanted Genji to stay home and keep out of the mess this operation had become, but their father had insisted Hanzo not work alone. Their family hadn't been given much information about the situation their employer was in when they had been given their instructions and payment for their services. They’d been paid a lot for simply keeping an eye on the street’s inhabitants and gathering information about who they were. Because their employer kept his distance and made it clear he had no intention of working with the Shimada family after this job, Hanzo thought any ulterior motives unlikely. The only other explanation he could come up with was that the situation was dire. It appeared his father had come to the same conclusion. 

Hanzo sighed as he shook his head to clear the oncoming headache. Lamp and letter in hand, he walked to the fireplace, ignited the letter on the flame from the lamp, and tossed the burning paper onto the stone hearth. His father was paranoid. What could Angela Ziegler possibly have in common with Jack Morrison or Gabriel Reyes?  
\---  
Jamison stared up at the sky, mindlessly stroking the fluffy ears of the firecracker, who had decided it was imperative that she lay over the top of Jamison’s stomach and disrupt his thinking. He hadn’t seen or heard from Satya since tea at Angela’s. Mako had told him to write her a letter and do something fun, but he really didn’t know what to do. He gently shoved the sheep sleeping across his torso. She, just like the rest of the sheep, were ready to be sheared. Different people liked to shear their sheep at different times, but he and Mako had agreed that mid August was the best. If you sheared the sheep just before the last few months of the year, the sheep wouldn’t overheat when it warmed up but once it started to get cold the sheep would have coats that were thick enough to ward off the chill. Perhaps he could talk to Satya when he went to shear the sheep. Jamison gave up on trying to rid himself of the large, fluffy weight and began to think about how he would ask Satya to sit with him at the shearing board. The place wasn’t exactly where most women would choose to spend the evening.  
\---  
Dear Satya,  
You said you wanted to talk at tea the other day, but I guess we haven’t really had the time. I’ll be at the shearing board today and tomorrow, you’ll actually probably be reading this tomorrow, but I wouldn’t mind if you tagged along. I know you don’t have the best memories of the place with the whole getting chased by a former murderer thing, but I usually start around six thirty at night and finish around ten. Nobody else wants to work after six, so I usually go after then. Takes a lot less time if you’re the only one working. If you wanted to drop in then, we could talk, and if you have another idea, let me know.  
\- Jamison  
\---  
Satya smiled at the letter. She hadn’t told Jamison that she’d wanted to see the shearing board, but he’d invited her regardless. Satya glanced at the clock from her spot in the sitting room. It was nearly six. Still smiling to herself, she got up to make dinner. If she left the food on the table with a note, Madame Lacroix would likely not ask questions when she returned from Olivia’s. After her water began to boil and she’d placed four potatoes in the pot, she hesitated before adding two more.  
While she waited, she sat at the table to read. The book had been lent to her by Madame Lacroix. Apparently it was popular in Britain at the moment and was praised for its well written characters, but despised for its terrible ending. Satya couldn’t figure out how the characters were endearing. The protagonist was incredibly stupid, throwing away his money and chasing after an incredibly rude, but beautiful woman, the rude but beautiful woman’s guardian was vengeful to the point of madness and was eventually burned alive because a candle had set fire to the old wedding dress the woman hadn’t taken off since the day she had first worn it, and the protagonist’s only surviving family, his sister, treated him horribly. The blacksmith was honorable, but was somewhat cowardly. Snapping the book shut, Satya poked one of her potatoes with a fork and, deciding they were done, drained them. She glanced at the clock.  
It was quarter to seven. Perfect. Snapping back into action, Satya pulled the bread loaf from the cupboard and cut two thick slices. She wrapped the bread in a freshly cleaned napkin and wrapped four of the potatoes in a second napkin before leaving a note to tell Madame Lacroix she had left the house and the bread loaf and remaining potatoes on the table were for her. After carefully placing the two parcels, a shawl, and her book into a bag, she turned the lamp in the parlor off and left the house.  
She arrived at the shearing board just before dark. A sea of sheep roamed the large shack, barely giving her enough space to move. She could see why Jamison liked working without any other graziers. He could fit more sheep into the building if he was the only one there. A loud buzzing noise came from the last stall. Carefully wading through the sheep, she made her way to the source of the noise. Jamison sat on a stool, arms wrapped around a sheep as he carefully shaved the wool from its stomach. Noticing a small bench in the corner of the stall, she walked over to sit on it. Jamison looked up from his work and smiled when he recognized his visitor. Turning the shears off, he set them down and gave the sheep a light smack on the back as it ran back to the other sheep. Sitting up, he scratched at the back of his neck.

“Hi.” He said awkwardly, dusting stray wool fibers from his pants.

“Hello.” She responded, shifting to a more comfortable position with her back to the wall. The two sat in silence for a few awkward moments before Satya remembered the food in her bag.

“Have you eaten yet?” She asked, pulling the bag from her shoulder to her lap. Jamison gave a small laugh and shook his head.

“Not yet. Don’ usually eat till after work.” Satya nodded at the response.

“I brought you food if you’re hungry and would like to eat.” She said, pulling out the parcels and handing one to Jamison. “I haven’t eaten either, so I brought enough for both of us.” Jamison smiled as he took the parcel and moved to sit next to her on the bench. The two unfolded the napkins and handed the other part of what they had. 

“Thanks” he began. “Don’t usually get the warm stuff on work days.” The two ate in silence for a few minutes before Jamison’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What’d ya wanna talk about?” He asked, starting on his second potato. Satya put her bread down and looked at him.

“Excluding yesterday, I hadn’t received a letter from you in a week. I was worried something had happened because you hadn’t responded to anything I’d sent you.” She explained before picking up her bread and continuing her meal. Jamison looked surprised.

“I was worried that something had happened ‘cause you hadn’t written me back in a week.” He retorted, breaking off a piece of his potato and feeding it to a curious sheep. Satya became really worried.

“Do you think she’s found out that we still communicate?” She asked nervously as she folded her napkin. Jamison messily tried to copy the fold before responding.

“I don’t know.” He replied in an equally worried tone. “She didn’t look like she knew at tea.” Satya sighed.

“It couldn’t be her. She would have stopped it by now. I’m not saying we shouldn’t worry, but could they have gotten lost?” Jamison nodded.

“Has to be it. Isn’t another good explanation.” He replied, standing up to nudge another sheep into a stall. Satya still wasn't convinced, but se decided to let the matter go for the moment. 

“Y’ can stay if y’want, but shearing sheep isn’t that interesting.” He said before sitting on the stool and coaxing the sheep nearer.

“I’ll stay” Sayta began. “I enjoy your company and I have a book. I can read aloud if you wish. I’ll even start from the beginning.” Jamison looked up from the sheep and smiled. 

“Sounds lovely.” He replied before turning on the shears. Satya fished the book from her bag opened it to the first page.

“My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.” She began. That’s how the two stayed for the next few hours. Satya lost track of the time and didn’t realize just how long she’d stayed until she heard the shears click off and felt Jamison sit beside her. She looked up from the book at him, and then to the sea of cleanly shaven sheep. Jamison chuckled at her surprise.

“Don’t stop.” He began “At least finish the chapter ‘fore y’ go.” Satya nodded, but before she started reading again, she pulled her shawl from her shoulders and rewrapped it so it hung around both of them.

“I don’t want you to get cold.” She reasoned quietly. She could feel blood rush to her cheeks and her heart beat a little faster. Friends share coats and blankets. This was normal, right? When she and Madame Lacroix stayed late at Marie’s house, they shared blankets to keep warm while working. Even if this felt differently, the principle was the same. With that in mind she calmed down and continued reading. Besides, it was late and she was too tired to think about technicalities. 

Jamison just stared. He loved her voice. It was rich like cream and clear as ice and even though Jamison didn’t particularly like the book, he never wanted it to end. Satya went on to the next chapter and didn’t notice when Mako arrived to help Jamison take the sheep back. The older man motioned for him to stay seated as he quietly began to herd the sheep out of the shearing board. Jamison turned back to Satya and happily realized she had unmindfully rested her head onto his shoulder. 

They finished the book that night. After Satya closed the back cover of the book, the two sat in comfortable silence.

“We should do this more often.” Jamison commented, cautiously resting his head against hers. Satya hummed a soft noise of agreement. The two fell silent again.

“I should go. Madame will think something's happened.” Satya said quietly without making any motion to get up. Jamison looked thoughtfully at her for a long moment. Slowly and hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She froze for a moment before turning her head slightly to look at him, soft brown eyes staring into warm hazel.

“Jamison” she began softly. He searched her eyes for what might be coming next, not saying a word.

“We can't. I can’t stay in Australia forever and if you came back to Britain they really would give you the death penalty.” Her voice was conflicted, but she didn't protest when he pulled her closer.

“We’ll figure that out when we get there then.” He replied, knowing she was right but not wanting to believe it.

\---  
You have underestimated them. Neither I nor the Shimadas will be able to prevent the Vaswanis from leaving Australia. From what I have learned, Amelie Lacroix, Jesse, Mcree, Olivia Colomar, and Hassan and Satya Vaswani will leave from port Arthur to Britain in early March or Late February. I would suggest making preparations for what could happen when they arrive in London.  
\- Angela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Most of you will probably recognize what Satya is reading, but if you don't, it's great expectations by Charles Dickens. I read this for school and had I not read it, this fic wouldn't have happened. This book started a joke between me and my friends about what the overwatch characters would be like had they lived in the 19th century. Naturally, the convict junkers were too good to not write about.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13! Historical funfacts in end notes!

Angela,  
Thank you. I appreciate you doing this favour for me. I will make the necessary preparations. Stay safe and inform the Shimadas that their work is done and they are free to leave Australia as soon as the Vaswanis depart.  
\- Jack  
………….

Satya handed Madame Lacroix the neatly folded petticoat and watched as the Governess gently placed it in the bag. Amelie looked Satya up and down before placing a hand on her student’s shoulder. 

“We’ll be back in two days. Monsieur Maximilian has living arrangements and financial plans for you and your father in London. From his letter the other day, I think you’ll like them. Elegant but understated, not at all ostentatious, and in a nice part of town. I’ve arranged for you to have a chaperone once I’ve left London. I will be able to tell you more once your father and I return from Port Arthur.” The governess’ look turned stern.

“ Stay out of trouble with Angela. I’ve asked her to keep An eye on Olivia as well while Jesse is with us and I regret to say it, but you will probably need to keep her out of trouble. That girl is always poking her nose where it shouldn’t be.” The governess sighed as Satya nodded with a wry smile, wondering how she was supposed to keep Olivia out of trouble if Olivia decided it was trouble she wanted. Satya picked up her teacher’s bag and followed Amelie down the stairs to the parlour where Hassan waited with his own bag. Hassan smiled and pulled his daughter into a hug.

“Be safe. I hope you have fun with Angela and Olivia.” Satya nodded and gave her father a reassuring smile before quickly kissing his cheek.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She replied. He pulled her into one last quick hug before picking up his bag and walking to the door. Satya and the governess grasped their respective bags, followed suit and waked out the door Hassan held open for them. After a few last farewells, the trio parted ways, two towards the train station and Satya to the house next door. When she knocked, the usual hurried footsteps followed and the door cracked open. Angela’s cheerful blonde head poked through the crack before opening the door with an overjoyed smile. Satya briefly wondered if Angela was ever sad. 

“Satya! I was wondering when you’d get here, Olivia got here about an hour ago.” She greeted with her usual enthusiasm. 

“Really?” Started Satya, stepping into the hall. “The train doesn’t leave until one. Did Jesse have an errand to run before leaving?”. Angela looked at her curiously as she led her younger neighbour into the parlour.

“He didn’t mention an errand. I just assumed the train left at twelve.” Angela looked to Olivia who sat at the table, cup of tea in hand. 

“What time did your brother’s train leave?” She asked the younger girl. Olivia set her tea down and tilted her head curiously.

“He didn’t say, but I thought that because he left so early the train left at twelve.” Satya shook her head.

“The train didn’t leave until one. I’m sure of it. Did Jesse have something to do before leaving?” Olivia sighed quietly in reply.

“No, not anything he mentioned anyway. Honestly, sometimes I think he tries to get away from me.”

“Nonsense” Angela replied immediately, as if the notion that anyone would try to avoid Olivia was absolutely absurd. “He’s your brother and he loves you. Like Satya said, he probably has an errand to run.” Satya nodded at the statement, as if to finalise the decision. Angela pulled out an extra cup and saucer for Satya and filled the cup halfway before motioning for Satya to sit.

“Please, join us.” She said with a smile. Satya sat down and smoothed her skirts before picking up her cup and sipping the hot drink.

“I’m so happy to have you two here for the weekend.” Sighed Angela. “ I don’t have the opportunity to talk to many women. It’s all miners and Genji. He’ll probably be over on Sunday. Mei occasionally comes by, but she’s often too busy.” She paused and took a thoughtful sip of her tea. “That’s probably what I miss most about Switzerland. There was always someone who wanted to talk. I never thought I’d miss it, but I do.” Satya’s interest piqued.

“What was Switzerland like? Or Europe in general if you’d prefer not to talk about Switzerland.” She asked, running her thumb lightly over the decorative border of the saucer. The young doctor paused, deep in thought.

“It was beautiful.” She replied with a note of nostalgia in her voice. “There were mountains as far as you could see and it snowed during the winter. Sure, the major cities smelled, but I loved it regardless.” She smiled fondly. “My mother always hosted wonderful Christmas parties. A delicious dinner followed by dancing and music. When I was little I always marvelled at how pretty my mother and her friends looked in their dresses.” Angela looked over at Olivia. “I suppose you have similar parties in London.” Olivia nodded 

“The nobility like to try to out do each other every year. There are always differences, but there’s always dancing and music before dinner and after dinner the men go off to smoke while the women have tea.” Olivia’s grin widened. “My uncle always throws a great Christmas party. It’s fun to watch all of those stuffy business men dance awkwardly with their wives or other guests. Most of them really don’t want to be there.” Angela giggled.

“That’s the only thing I didn’t like about those parties. People could be so uptight sometimes.” Angela took a sip of her tea before turning to Satya. “What has Amelie said about Europe?” Satya shook her head.  
“She hasn’t really told me anything. I know it rains a lot and the streets are crowded, but not much else. I knew that people danced at parties, but that’s only because Madame teaches dance.” Angela clapped her hands together.

“That’s wonderful! Which ones have you learned?” Satya felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

“I haven’t actually learned them yet, but I know that waltzes and Mazurkas go with three count music, polka with four, and so on and so forth. Madam wanted to wait until my father had time to practice with us.” The young doctor’s smile grew.

“Then that shall be our project this weekend! I haven’t danced in years, but I’m sure Olivia has had numerous opportunities to practice. Between the two of us, we should be able to teach you.” She declared. An amused grin appeared on Olivia’s face.

“This should be fun.” She remarked calmly, draining her cup in a manner that would have made Madame Lacroix scowl. Angela excitedly stood, pushed in her chair, and looked expectantly at her two temporary charges. The girls stood and followed Angela into the front room where Satya had drawn the doctor with Genji. Angela wasted no time in pushing the sofa and chairs to the side.

“Alright, this should do nicely.” Said Angela, looking around the room. She motioned to Satya and Olivia. “Stand here.” The two girls moved to the middle of the room next to Angela who moved them to stand in front of each other.

“Ok! Satya, you will be yourself, and Olivia, you will be the gentleman!” Angela made quick work of placing Olivia’s hand on Satya’s waist and pulling Satya’s arm out to the side. The other two hands she clasped together and held to the other side. Standing with both arms out made Satya feel foolish, but she imagined the feeling would fade once they actually started dancing. 

“We’ll start with the waltz.” Declared Angela happily as she moved back to examine her work. “Think of it like moving in a square. Because the man leads, don’t worry about where to go. Just follow him. If he steps forward, you step backwards, if he steps backwards you step forwards, and if he steps to the side, you follow. Do you understand?” Satya processed the words and nodded. It shouldn’t be hard, all she had to do was watch Olivia’s feet.

“Good!” Cheered Angela, whose smile widened, pleased with herself. “I’ll count off in sets of three, since we don’t have any music.” A fact that appeared to disappoint her without putting a damper on her mood. “Ok, start on the second set. Ready? One two three, one two three” the pair started moving as Satya frantically watched Olivia’s feet. Every time she would misstep and bump into Olivia or a piece of furniture that hadn’t been moved enough, the older girl would laugh and as Satya got better, she laughed with her. All three had burst into laughter when the two had tripped and fell into one of Angela’s chairs in a tangle of skirts and crinoline hoops, when a thud sounded at the door. Less like knocking and more like kicking. Frowning, Angela left to answer it and left Satya and Olivia to get up and smooth their skirts. The door creaked a little before a thud signified it slamming open. Angela’s frantic shrieking followed.

“Jamison Fawks! What on this earth have you done to your hand?” Stomping came from the hall as Angela dragged the man by the back of his shirt through the front room to her office. He was trying to offer some explanation about shears and a broken shelf while attempting to keep a somewhat dirty rag wrapped around a profusely bleeding hand. The broken explanation was cut off when Angela slammed the office door shut. Satya gave the door a concerned frown. Olivia nudged her shoulder.

“He’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s obvious he’s had worse.” Satya nodded. A minute or so later, Angela and Jamison, now sporting a bandaged hand, exited the office. Angela shot him a withering look.

“Don’t rip the stitches.” Jamison gulped, looking as if he wanted to know what would happen if he did, but didn’t want to ask. The doctor sighed before smiling lightly and giving Jamison a pat on the shoulder. “Be careful.” She warned gently. Jamison nodded.

“Right. Careful. Will do.” He tipped his head to Angela. “Thanks for the help.” He started to leave, sparing a glance at Satya who felt her face heat up. Angela looked at Satya, then to Jamison, and an amused grin appeared on her face.

“Jamison?” She asked, a hint of suspiciously innocent curiosity in her voice. Jamison turned at his name.

“Yea?”

“At what age did you leave london?”

“I dunno. Eight? Ten? Somewhere ‘round there.”

“So you’d started formal lessons?”

“Like what?”

“Things like French, writing, etiquette. Maybe dancing?” Ah. So that’s where she was going with this. Satya shot the young doctor a look. How unpleasantly underhanded. Jamison gave Angela a suspicious stare.

“Maybe. What’s that got to do with anything?” Angela smiled.

“Olivia and I have been trying to teach Satya how to waltz. Olivia is a little short to stand in place of the gentleman, would you help us?” Satya looked uncomfortably to Olivia for help. She was smirking and biting the corner of her lip to keep from laughing. Satya shot her a small glare before looking awkwardly between Jamison and Angela. Jamison too, was glancing uncomfortably between Angela and Satya. 

“I would” He started. “But we got two problems. One, I haven’t danced in years. Two” he wriggled the stump of his arm in its tied shirt sleeve. Angela brought her finger to her chin, thinking.

“That does seem to be an issue.” She remarked. The room stood silent for a few moments, waiting for the situation to be either solved or dismissed. The, Angela suddenly perked up and hurried back to her office. After a minute or so of crashing and rummaging sounds. Angela emerged, carrying a contraption made of bent and broken pieces of metal and leather belts. It was obviously and hopelessly broken.

“I acquired this nifty little contraption back in Switzerland at my father’s office.” She fiddled with the mess of belts and metal before pulling out a spindly metal hand. Angela continued. “A rather wealthy young man came in with this years ago, hoping my father could fix it. The belts should allow the the hand to be moved with the opposite shoulder, but that particular function no longer works. It wont move like it should, but it should work as an appendage for our purposes. If you decide you like it, I’ll try once again to fix it, but you may be out of luck.” Jamison eyed the contraption curiously. Angela beckoned him forward. Carefully, she fastened the harness on over his shirt, untied the knot in his sleeve, and strapped the metal arm to his stump. Jamison gave the new appendage a few experimental waves. The rusted joint creaked a little, but stayed stuck. Angela gave a giggle at the absurd looking motion before pulling him next to Satya in the middle of the room and clasping her hands.

“Alright, assume your positions!” Satya grasped the metal hand as Jamison placed his hand awkwardly on the small of her back, as if using a muscle that hadn’t been used in a while. Angele repeated her instructions from before.

“I’ll give counts of three, start on the second set. Ready, and, one two three, one two three” Just like before, Satya began stumbling over everything, but unlike before, her partner was stumbling with her. They stepped over each others feet and moved off count for several minutes before they settled into a movement that wasn’t all that graceful, but stayed on count and followed the correct steps. A minute later Olivia was laughing and giving the pair encouragement.

“Much better. Perhaps you won’t be asked to leave floor.” Jamison turned and rather childishly stuck his tongue out at her, causing her to laugh even more. This lack of concentration caused him to lead them right into a table. The pair toppled over as the rest of the room started laughing once again. Angela, still laughing walked over.

“I think that’s enough waltzing for today. Shall we try Mazurka?” Satya gave her a horrified look as Jamison groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The polka and Mazurka (polish in origin) were crazy popular in the 1840s and 50s. The waltz (german in origin) reached Europe in 1812, but wasn’t popular until later because of its closed position and the fact that it exposed a lady's ankle (how scandalous!). I’ll include the videos I based these off of in the notes if you like.
> 
> Prosthetics!
> 
> In 1812, a prosthetic arm that could be controlled with the opposite shoulder was invented in Germany, but until the twentieth century, was not affordable for the common person. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here’s another chapter I was so excited about the new character that I simply had to introduce her to this story. I wrote this in two days, on my phone. I borrowed several headcannons, including one about Moira liking Dobermanns. I can just see her sitting in a velvet armchair, legs crossed, wearing a long dark skirt with two Dobermanns at her feet, I just really love that image. I have not given up on this story. I have tons of inspiration and ton of new characters will make an appearance once we get to london.
> 
> PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR THIS: I wrote Moira and Gabe into a business marriage. This is not a ship thing, this is a me trying to make Moira central to the plot in a way that is still pretty victorian thing. Please don’t kill me.
> 
> Last thing. I am applying for a school that looks at first semester grades and the amount of work necessary for admission doesn’t leave a lot of time for writing. My next update will probably be late November early December. This is why this chapter is in December.

Amelie,  
Thank you for meeting with Maxmilian, I know how cynical and melancholy he can be. Olivia has written to me on the progress that has been made. I must say, she rather enjoyed teaching your student to dance last week. You have been a trusted associate of mine for nearly fifteen years. I don't think I need to mention the consequences of not carrying out your orders. Do not forget, you are the the property of Mr. Ogundimu until your husband's debt has been paid. Mr. Ogundimu has entrusted me to ensure that the debt is paid. Your orders were to teach, observe, and care for Mr. Vaswani's daughter. Neither I, nor Mr. Ogundimu will tolerate slacking. I hope To never again hear that my niece is needed to fill in gaps left by your work.  
Gabriel Reyes  
...

Amelie dropped the paper. He couldn't add time. Not now, not when she was only months away from being free from Gerard's mistakes. Her husband had been a fool. A careless, selfish fool. She had been nineteen when they'd married, he only a year her senior. It had been a good match. They had both come from wealthy families with spotless reputations and impeccable manners. 

For the first decade of their marriage, they had been happy and in love. They'd moved into a nice chateau and lived a nice, quiet life with a greyhound and each other and that had been all Amelie needed. 

Then, the drinking and the gambling and the late nights began. She never saw Gerard but for when he left in the morning and stumbled back to bed, intoxicated, past midnight. Not quite a year after the start of her husband's filthy habits, they had been visited by monsieur Maximilian, the financial adviser for Akande Ogundimu. She fumed at the memory. Gerard had been expecting the visit. He'd welcomed the man with the expression of one of Ms. O'deorain's Dobermanns after being kicked by Gabriel . Her husband had wasted away their wealth in a casino and had borrowed a great deal more from Mr. Ogundimu. Because of his foolishness, she had been sentenced to fifteen years of work, carrying out the orders of Mr. Ogundimu. After the adviser had been dismissed, she had shouted at him and he had shouted back and she'd declared that he was no better than any lonely, common man in the streets. A loathsome, self serving rat. Even though they'd slept in separate rooms, she could still hear him sobbing. She left the morning after without saying goodbye.

The first ten years of her sentence, she'd been at nocturne manor in London, the home of Gabriel Reyes and his wife. It had been obvious from the start that Gabriel and Moira didn't love each other, that the marriage was for business and business alone. Gabriel did, however, love his little niece. Olivia hadn't been the most attentive student, nor the most obedient child, but Amelie was fond of her because she had been her first student, and Olivia held a similar fondness for Amelie. She had learned to forget her husband and love those around her. Ten years later, when Olivia had finished her education, she had been sent to teach the child of Ms. O'deorain's deceased brother upon request of Ms. O'deorain herself. 

Emily's situation was not enviable. Her mother had died in child birth and her father past seven years later from yellow fever. She was a pretty child, bright too. Amelie lived for just over four years in a small but stately manor in Surrey, with only Emily, a maid, and occasionally an irritating little mill girl that Emily met God knows where to keep her company. Just as her final year had begun, she'd been called to Australia to teach Satya. 

Because she had so little time to teach so much, she'd had to do things differently. She hadn't been able to teach satya more than what steps to take to what music where partner dancing was concerned. It would have been better to wait until Hassan had time to learn as well so she could effectively teach them both. Mr. Reyes had left these decisions to her because she was qualified to make them, and now he was trying to make them for her. 

Amelie pinched the bridge of her nose to clear her head. She would be free in five months. In five months, she would return to her family in france. They would understand and help her to begin again.  
...  
"She was up a tree! It took forever for me t'get 'er down. Still not sure how she got 'erself up there in the first place." Satya smiled as Jamison finished the story. The two were sitting side by side, carding recently washed and dried wool before placing it into a sack. When one sack was filled, another was put in its place.

"That does sound difficult. How did you get her down?" Jamison let out a cackle and launched into an exaggerated tale of how Mako climbed the tree to rescue firecracker, Jamison being unable to do so because of his missing hand. Satya spared a glance at the metal appendage. Since the dance lesson last week, Jamison had taken to wearing the spindly metal arm. Though he couldn't move the prosthetic from the elbow down, he had placed one of the steel carding combs in the hand, and used his good hand to wrap the fingers around the handle. Though it wasn't any where near as functional as a real arm, it was better than nothing.

Nodding to show she'd been listening Satya briefly set her combs down to adjust her sleeves. December had come and with it, scorching heat. She allowed a smile to turn her lips.

"It's difficult for me to imagine Mako climbing a tree. I'm sure it was amusing." Jamison laughed again, readjusting the metal finger joints before retrieving his other carding comb.

"What'd the frenchie do on her trip to the city?" Satya paused, her mood deflating. Quietly she resumed her work. 

"She and my father met with Mr. Ogundimu's financial advisor to discuss our living arrangements in London." She murmured without looking at him.

"Oh." He replied simply. She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"What're they like?" He asked, seemingly unsure what to say after that declaration. Satya tried to recall what Madame Lacroix had told her.

"It's a nicely sized townhouse. Two floors and an attic in a busy, but not crowded part of London. Three bedrooms, a kitchen, a wash room, an office, and a parlour. My father is certain we will love it there." Jamison nodded.

"Do you know when y'leave?" Satya's mood fell even further.

"The fifteenth of February." Jamison's head shot up.

"February?" He sputtered, dropping the steel comb. "That soon?" Satya nodded grimly, feeling his shoulder move as he slowly picked up the comb.

"You'll write t' me won't ya?" He asked, melancholy. Satya turned to him, surprised.

"Was that ever really a question? Of course I will." She leaned into his side. "Of course I will." She repeated, quietly. He wrapped both arms around her, careful to keep the broken bits of metal from sticking her. They sat together quietly for the moment. 

"I really like this arm." Blurted Jamison. Satya chuckled a moment later at the random statement.

"No, I really do!" He continued. "Even if it can't move on its own, it's good for a lot of things. I can card wool faster, I can herd the sheep faster, and I can hold you closer." He ended his spiel in an uncertain tone. Satya could feel her cheeks heat up. She felt a smile warm her face and turned to Jamison.

"How excessively and wonderfully romantic of you. You didn't strike me as the type, Jamison." She teased. He shot her a look before grinning and pressing a light kiss to her nose.

"Only for you." He replied, releasing her and setting his combs down. "Think that's 'nough for today. Y' keeper'll wonder why y' not back by now." He gestured to the door and sure enough, the sun was starting to set. Sighing, Satya stood and brushed off her skirts. 

"You're right. I should be going. It was good to see you again. I'll try to come back sooner than last time. I'll even bring Gulliver's travels again, you appeared to enjoy that one." She embraced him and placed a kiss on his cheek. He smiled.

"Sounds lovely, I'll see you then." With that farewell, Satya ducked out of the barn and started towards her house.  
...

Jesse cursed as his boot snagged in yet another bramble. He had been tailing Hanzo and a group of other men, who were once again, conversing entirely in Japanese. The group had left the tavern and started towards the main part of town where everything broke off into streets, when the group had parted ways. Hanzo, instead of going home, had gone off the street and walked through a pasture and into the neighboring woods. It had been a matter of minutes before he'd lost sight of Hanzo. Now, cursing, he was trying to find his way back to the pasture. Suddenly, he found himself flipped over and thrown to the ground, stunned. The familiar bite of a knife presented itself at his throat.

"Why are you following me?" A stern voice demanded. Jesse squinted, clearing the waves in his vision to look up at an angry Hanzo. Jesse gave a small chuckle, wondering how he'd get out of this one.

"Who do you work for?" Hanzo demanded calmly. The knife pressed closer.

"Why do you work for them?" He asked, the cool mask scarily falling into place. Jesse snorted.

“Why does anyone work for anyone?” He shot back. Hanzo didn’t need to know anything. Jesse had nothing against him and would prefer not to hurt him. He hated when assignments went down that road. He felt the blade pierce his skin. 

“Answer me, fool.” He could feel the knife slowly go deeper. Hanzo had obviously been trained to quickly get the answers he sought without wasting time on an opponent who will not give him information. He held his hands up in surrender. 

“I owe ‘em.” He panicked. The knife let up slightly. 

“Go on.” Hanzo urged, satisfied he was getting somewhere.

“Pulled me out of a bad spot back in the states. I owe ‘em for that.”

“Why don’t you leave?” Jesse laughed bitterly.

“I’d like to keep my head.” Jesse almost laughed again at the irony of that statement.

“So you work for the kingmaker.” It was a statement, not a question. Jesse snorted at the nickname. Was that really what they were calling Reyes these days? The old man would probably find it amusing.

“First time I’ve heard that name.” The statement seemed to confirm Hanzo’s thoughts. The knife disappeared.

“Go. Do not follow me again or I will not be as lenient. I am here to observe and I intend to keep it that way.” With that, the man walked off, leaving Jesse to catch his breath on the forest floor.  
…  
Angela sat with Genji in the parlour, her head on his shoulder. It was dark, the only light coming from several kerosene lamps on the table and mantle. Genji sighed and dropped his head on top of hers. She smiled.

“Long week?” She asked, patting his other shoulder gently. He nodded.

“Gas leaks. We’ve lost four canaries this week alone.” Angela made a noise of sympathy. 

“Most would care more about losing the resources in the hazard area.” Genji smiled.

“I like the birds better than the gold.” Angela gave a small laugh. 

“You have Christmas off, right?” She asked. Genji nodded happily.

“Hanzo and I managed to get four days.” Angela gasped.

“Really? But you never get extra days!” Genji laughed when she hugged him.

“I wanted to spend Christmas with you.” He said softly. Angela sighed and burrowed happily into his side.

“I can’t think of anything more wonderful. What does Hanzo think of that. I was under the impression he didn’t like the thought of you and I.” Genji hmmed. 

“Hanzo has warmed to the idea. He’ll be returning to Japan in early April.” She gave him a surprised look. 

“He’s leaving?” She began to visibly deflate. “Are you going with him?” 

“No” Genji’s answer was immediate. “I like it here. I don’t want to leave after creating a good life here, better than any life I could have in Japan.” The relief Angela felt was immediate. It must have shown in her body language because Genji began to laugh.

“Did you really think I would leave you?” He asked, his tone filled with amusement. Angela smiled.

“I suppose not.” The two settled back into their original places on the couch.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas? You love your social events, I suppose a better question would be what you have planned for Christmas.” Angela sat up enthusiastically.

“I want to have everyone over for dinner. We can move all of the furniture in here out of the way, and move the piano in from the parlor and have music and dancing afterwards. I know Satya, Olivia, and Amelie play the piano, perhaps one of them would play for us. Satya asked about Switzerland and it reminded me of my mother’s parties, so I want to try to plan one like hers, just on a much smaller scale.” Genji pulled her closer.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”  
…  
Mr. Reyes,  
As you know, I arrived in Egypt yesterday. I spoke with Ms. Amari this morning and she still refuses to form a contract with our mills. She told me to inform you that she will not sell cotton to you, nor Mr. Morrison until the two of you “stop being petulant children and set aside your differences. It is my understanding that she is turning over responsibility of the plantation to her daughter in a little less than three months so she can move to represent her product in London. I would suggest meeting with her then, but I must advise against associating with her, at least publicly. Women in business are not generally accepted.  
\- Maximilian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Have a lovely day!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! A few notes before starting this chapter. I know Christmas trees were relatively new to the world outside of places like prussia, Switzerland, Germany, and Austria during the victoian era. However, Queen Victoria and her husband Albert set up a Christmas tree in the 1840s, after which everyone wanted one. Because widowmaker would want to be as classy as the queen and Angela would jump at the chance to bring back childhood traditions, I made the executive decision that they would have a Christmas tree at their party. My friend and I had a misunderstanding about how they would get a tree, so just in case someone needs this, yes, conifers are indeed native to Australia according to oznativeplants.com. We meet new characters in this chapter! I’m so excited, a few chapters more and we’ll be at the London stage!

Dear Papa,  
Greetings! I don’t know how much of me you remember, but it’s Nora. I’ll be brief, so as not to waste your time. You were very busy when I was small and I imagine the work load has only gotten larger since you moved to Australia. I think it would be lovely to live with sheep, though it must be lots of work. Henrietta and I have begun making and selling lace in order to pay for the telegrams! You’d be proud of her, her work is nearly as fine as Mama’s. I’ve been looking through your books, I hope you don’t mind. We miss you dearly, write soon.  
Fondest wishes and a merry Christmas, Nora

……..  
Satya hissed as she pricked her finger for the fifth time. She was sitting at Angela’s kitchen table next to Olivia, stringing pieces of popcorn onto a string, while Angela hurried around the kitchen stirring pots and checking whatever was in the oven. Madame Lacroix Sat across from the younger women polishing silverware. Satya bit her lip in frustration as her popcorn piece cracked in half.

“Remind me why this particular ornament is necessary?” Sighed Satya, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice? Madame Lacroix glanced up at her before returning her attention to the silver.

“Christmas trees and garlands are becoming quite popular in Britain since the royal family began using them and they’ve always been somewhat of a tradition in the alpine countries. If it’s good enough for the Queen it’s good enough for us.” Angela poked her head over Satya’s shoulder.

“We always had a tree in our sitting room when I was a little girl. My mother would give me fruit and trim scraps to make decorations for it.” A bubbling sound came from the stove and Angela immediately ran back to calm the pot.

“What’s taking Genji so long? Didn’t he leave this morning to find a tree?” Complained Olivia, who appeared just as frustrated as Satya. Angela nodded as she stirred a pot that smelled deliciously of chicken.

“He was very puzzled at my request for a tree. He’s worried about finding one that’s not too tall, but not too short.” Angela pulled the lid off a second pot and stirred. “I told—” Angela was interrupted by a crash from outside. Angela quickly peered out the window before letting out an excited sound. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” She sang excitedly, hurrying to the door. “Watch the mutton for me?” She asked, gesturing to the saddle of meat on the fire. Madame Lacroix nodded as Angela rushed out to meet Genji and look at the tree. 

It was December twenty-fourth. The four women had been bustling through the house, decorating everything that could be decorated with popcorn strands, ferns, evergreen, and fruit. The heat outside was stifling and the warmth from the kitchen stove made it worse. Even Madame Lacroix had pinned up her sleeves to avoid overheating. Shuffling sounds came from the hall and Olivia and Satya paused their work to watch as Jesse and Genji carried a small conifer to the dining room. Behind them, Angela bounced and chattered excitedly while Hanzo followed at a slower pace. Satya smiled, before biting her lip again as her lack of attention caused her to prick her finger once more. Angela’s pot began to bubble and Madame Lacroix put down her silver to stir it. The rich smell hit Satya again and she turned her head curiously.

“That smells wonderful, what is it?” She asked, cautiously sticking her needle through another piece of popcorn.

“I believe it’s mulligatawny soup.” She replied, stirring the pot of chicken and vegetables. “Though it’s not made the way I usually see it.” Satya nodded. Olivia smiled as she successfully speared another piece of popcorn without cracking it.

“Honestly, everything smells great. Is the mutton from Mr.Rutledge and Mr. Fawks?” Olivia said the names as if they were strange on her tongue. Satya nodded ruefully.

“Yes, and we really should thank them. Mr. Fawks is quite fond his sheep and I don’t imagine he was thrilled about butchering one.” Jamison’s name felt strange on her tongue. They had long since passed those formalities. Jamison had lamented the death of his sheep the other day. Mako had felt they needed to contribute to the party and Jamison had only reluctantly agreed to let one of the sheep go. He still missed it, even if he couldn’t tell which one it was. Satya had awkwardly tried to comfort him, wondering how he was going to get through dinner without appearing exceptionally disturbed and melancholy. 

“When did you speak to Mr. Fawks of his sheep?” Asked Madame Lacroix, narrowing her eyes in disapproval.

“I didn’t.” Replied Satya. Technically it wasn’t a lie, she hadn’t said a word about his sheep during that particular visit. “I just know he’s fond of them.” Madame Lacroix gave her a disapproving look while Olivia just smiled knowingly. Angela re-entered the kitchen, smiling. She bent to examine the spiraled strand of popcorn on the floor before smiling up at the girls.

“This is good, ladies! Tie it off and bring it to the dining room!” Olivia groaned with relief and Satya happily tied her end of the thread into a knot. Careful, they looped the strand over Olivia’s arm and walked into the dining room where Jesse was securing the tree in a makeshift stand of books, pots, and rocks. Genji and Hanzo stood to the side giving the tree strange looks. Angela bounced on her toes before carefully taking the garland from Olivia and pinning it to the top of the tree. 

“Genji, could you help me wind this around?” Genji nodded and awkwardly maneuvered around to the other side of the tree and delicately began to weave the garland through the branches, by now, Madame Lacroix had left the silver and stood watching from the kitchen door, just incase a pot began to boil over. When there was no garland left, Angela stood back and clasped her hands.

“Perfect!” She exclaimed. She turned to Madame Lacroix. “Did you bring your scrap bag? She asked eagerly. The Frenchwoman nodded and entered the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a small cloth bag.

“Ok everybody, take a piece from the scrap bag and tie it to the tree.” Madame Lacroix pulled a few handfuls of scrapped ribbon, lace, and fabric from the bag and set them on the table. Satya picked up a piece of blue velvet ribbon and tied it to a branch before repeating the process with a piece of lace, a piece of white cotton, and so forth. By the time they’d emptied the bag, the tree looked more like a tassel than a tree. In Satya’s opinion, it was rather ugly, but Angela looked as if she was the happiest woman in the world as she stepped back to look at it.

“It’s wonderful!” She cheered excitedly, throwing her arms around Genji.

“One moment.” She said suddenly, detaching herself from Genji and hurrying to the door. The room’s inhabitants exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything. After a moment of silence, Madame Lacroix directed Satya and Olivia back to the kitchen.

“Idle hands are the devil’s work shop.” She quipped as she sat back down to finish polishing the silver. “Back to work, I believe Angela said the tablecloth needed to be hemmed.” Unlike Olivia, Satya was able to suppress her groan of disappointment at having to pick up her needle agan. Nevertheless, a few minutes later, both girls sat with the elaborately embroidered fabric draped over their laps. Angela rushed down the hall chattering excitedly as she pulled the graziers along behind her, Mei following them at a more leisurely pace. She could hear Mei fawn over the tree and Mako grunt with approval.

“Looks a little… scrappy?” She heard Jamison comment from the other room. A muffled thud sounded along with a squawk of protest.

“Oi! What’s that for?” 

“Be polite.” Chastised Mako.

“All right, yea, polite. It’s… colorful.” Responded Jamison. Satya could hear Angela give a short laugh.

“Much better.” Praised Angela, as one would a child for saying please and thank you.

“It really is very nice, Angela. I’ve never seen a Christmas tree before, but I’m certain it’s the loveliest tree in Australia!”

“Probably the only Christmas tree in Australia.” Muttered Satya with a chuckle. Madame Lacroix looked up from the gravy boat she was polishing.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing, I apologize.” Responded Satya with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“That reminds me.” Sounded Angela from the other room. “Jamison, may I see your prosthetic? Just until this evening. I found a piece at the hardware store that I think I may be able to adjust to fix it if I can straighten out the remaining components. Its not meant for a prosthetic, of course, but I think I can make it work well enough.”

“Uh…Sure.” She heard Jamison reply hesitantly. The sounds of shuffling belts and latches came from the room and soon after, Angela walked into the kitchen carrying the arm, a small roll of wire, and a dull metal rod. The last of the items Satya guessed had been in the doctor’s office. Angela took her seat in the kitchen and looked up at Jamison who was standing, armless, in the doorway.

“That’s all I needed, Jamison. If you and Mako would like to return home, you can.” Jamison nodded, and glanced at Satya. She offered him a small smile, which he returned as he looked back at Angela.

“Sounds good. We’re s,’posed t’ show up at seven, right?” Angela nodded.

“That’s correct”

“Alright, see you then.” He paused to bow his head awkwardly to the three women at the table. “Nice to see all of you again, Miss Colomar, Madame Lacroix, Miss Vaswani. I’ll see you all again at seven.” And with that, he left. Satya was puzzled. It was obvious the formalities were just as uncomfortable to him as they sounded to her. Usually he wouldn’t bother. She furrowed her eyebrows as she went back to hemming the tablecloth. Thank the gods they were almost finished.

“Maybe he does possess some manners.” Commented Madame Lacroix. Angela laughed lightly as she began disassembling the arm and putting it back together with the new wire.

…………  
Jack Morrison stood by the window of the second floor office, watching the winter snow gently suffocate the outside shrubbery. Immemor house was the name he’d chosen for this estate. He’d ordered the elegant, but smaller than average manor to be built shortly after his sixth year in England, just after everything fell apart and refused to leave him alone, hence the name. The forgetful house, built with every intention of leaving the past behind. A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.” He called shortly. A girl cracked the door open and entered.

“Ms. Ana Amari, sir.” She introduced hesitantly, glancing back outside the door. Jack nodded.

“Indeed, thank you. Let her in, I’ve been expecting her.” The girl nodded and opened the door to a simply dressed woman whose hair was covered with a blue grey hijab. Jack almost winced. He didn’t have a problem with religious customs of any kind, but there were many in London who wouldn’t respond gracefully.

“You’re looking well for a man of your years, Jack.” He nodded his thanks.

“As are you, Ana.” He replied. Ana took a seat in the armchair next to the hearth where a fire warmed the chilly room.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you stand this weather.” Ana shuddered as if to accentuate her claim. “It’s horrid.” Jack gave a light chuckle.

“We both know you’re not here to talk about the weather.” Ana stopped rubbing her hands together and smiled.

“You’re right. Let’s get to the point. I want to know about your latest project.” Jack huffed sarcastically.

“More like trying to put a stop to Reyes’ project. Who knows what he’ll do to that man once he’s moved. Would have been better off back in India.” Ana leaned forward with curiosity.

“Tell me about this man.” Jack hummed thoughtfully.

“He has a daughter, he’s a widower, an architect, and according to Angela, the most interesting man she’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.” At that, Ana narrowed her eyes.

“Jack Morrison, tell me you have not dragged Angela Ziegler into this mess once again.” Jack sighed.

“She happened to live near by and agreed to be a resource. She’s a very valuable one at that.” Ana gave him that frustrated look of disappointment that always made him feel awful.

“When she left, you promised her peace, just as she deserved. I would have thought you’d be more sensitive to her situation. After all, you were the one who assigned her the Franco-Prussian war project. After what happened to Reinhardt—” The Egyptian woman swallowed harshly and tore her gaze from him. Another thing they both wanted to forget. During the war between France and Prussia, Angela had offered to travel with Reinhardt Wilhelm, a Prussian soldier and friend of Angela and Jack’s, to investigate a possible load of botched artillery with connections to Akande Ogundimu, Reyes’ new boss at the time. Angela had tagged along as a medic and been unable to do anything but watch as Reinhardt bled out from a fatal chest wound. The incident had scarred and hurt her so much that as soon as she could leave the Prussian camps, she had requested to leave her position in Jack’s company, after which she moved to Australia of all places to get as far away as possible from Prussia, Switzerland, and the steadily growing German Empire.

“Angela’s fine. I’ve gotten all the information I need and will leave her in peace.” Reasoned Jack, moving to sit in the other arm chair. Ana sighed.

“I just want her to have her peace. She was so… exhausted the last time I saw her. Too tired of the world to care for it.” The door opened once again as the girl brought in a tea tray. Ana gratefully accepted the cup of steaming liquid and took a tentative sip.

“How is she these days?” Ana asked, carefully stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. Jack smiled fondly.

“She’s well. One of the yakuza I hired in January has begun courting her. She treats the miners, so her work load isn’t so strenuous. She seems happy.” Ana raised an eyebrow.

“Yakuza? That’s your definition of fine?” Jack shrugged.

“If it were the other brother, I might be worried, but I don’t think this one’s particularly interested in a life of organized crime.” He sipped at his tea. “I’m not even sure he knows about his family’s alternate business. Ana nodded in thoughtful acknowledgment.

“I suppose I should trust your judgment.” She surmised, setting her cup down and refilling it. “So what importance does this Indian architect have to Gabriel?” Jack stiffened now that they were back on topic.

“Just one of his manipulative charity projects. I suspect Gabriel may have started out as a similar project.” He swirled the tea in its cup. “This particular criminal empire gains many of its members by helping brilliant, but socially unremarkable individuals climb the social ladder and then threatening to pull their life out from under them. It’s an incredibly effective way to create puppets.” Jack stood and gestured for Ana to follow him to his desk.

“Angela believes she may have found one such case in the Australian colony where she lives.” Jack pulled the information he’d received from Angela, along with an old newspaper article. “Mako Rutledge. Gabriel offered him a job and education a little over fifteen years ago. He became the financial manager for one of Gabriel’s more successful mills, married a merchants daughter, and had two daughters of his own.” He pulled the newspaper article to the top. “About ten years ago, he turned himself into the police for the murder of two prominent businessmen, the owners of mills Gabriel was competing with for high quality low cost cotton.” He shot Ana a look, knowing it was the cotton from her plantation that Gabriel wanted. Ana returned the look cooly.

“I’ve already told the both of you. Once the two of you stop acting like children, I’ll gladly sell cotton to the both of you. And don’t think that because Fareeha’s in charge now you can cheat this decision. I’ve left her with strict instructions not to sell to either of you.” Jack tried not to look frustrated.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if Gabe hadn’t gotten involved with that corporate monstrosity! I told him we didn’t need favors to climb society, but he insisted accepting outside help was the only way.” Jack slumped in his chair. “I’m proof that that isn’t the case.” Ana shook her head.

“You both did what you thought best. Britain is different from your America. Both of you knew you needed to be smart about your business decisions. I may not agree with the suspected outcome of Gabriel’s, but I can’t blame him.” Jack sighed.

“I know. I just wish he would let me help. Or speak to me at the least.” Ana nodded, picking up her tea.

“So what plans do you have to save this architect from his ghastly fate?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack clasped his hands and rested his chin upon them thoughtfully.

“When you leave, ask the girl who let you in to come here. I have an assignment for her.”  
…………  
Dear Ana Amari,  
I am glad to hear you arrived in London safely. I was glad to hear of your visit. My wife and I would be honored if you would join us for dinner along with Maximilian to celebrate. He returned to the city shortly after your arrival. If this Friday is convenient for you, we would love for you to join us. I know Moira is restless for another bold soul such as yourself to converse with. She has been since Olivia left for the winter. Small talk with materialistic women isn’t her idea of a enlightening afternoon and all Emily speaks of is her friend from the mills. Please let me know of your answer by Wednesday so I may inform the cook of your presence.  
Sincerely, Gabriel Reyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Exams are finally over and Ive had time to finish this chapter. It’s a little longer than the others, but that’s because there’s a scene in London as well as Australia. This is the first chapter in which Satya adresses Hassan directly and she calls him Tandri, which is telugu for dad. I named Moira's dogs after prominent Victorian scientists. Darwin is a cutie that must be protected from boss man Gabriel's wrath. I am more attached to the animals in this story than the people. Also, I have included a few sources at the end, two on dancing and one on hair. I hope you enjoy!

My dearest Lena,  
Thank you for your letter last week, it was received with the utmost joy. I am sorry that I will not be able to spend Christmas with you, but Aunt Moira wanted me here for Christmas since Olivia left them for the winter. I believe she wanted someone to keep her company, but I worry I am too dull for her. I pity her. Everyday I’m here I worry for her happiness. My uncle never speaks to her, he works in his office all day. She stays in the library reading some of the most complicated books I’ve ever seen. I’ve opened one, it appears she has a love for science. I’ve bought for her a book about plant hybridization, I think it will make a wonderful Christmas present. I have also mailed my gift to you, but sadly you will not receive it until after Christmas. Be careful not to over work yourself and take all precaution to avoid fire in the mill. I know you operate the bobbin machines and not the looms, but the fire from nine years ago still scares me. That boy who lost his leg could have just as easily been anyone else, and that includes you.  
With love, Emily  
………

Emily impatiently bounced in the cold and shoved her hands deeper into her muff. The post was late. It had been a week since she’d written Lena and she had yet to receive a response. Surely by now both her letter and her Christmas gift would have reached Lena. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of coach wheels. Emily craned her neck to see the mail man’s cart, but was instead met with he sight of a cab. Emily deflated visibly. It was getting late and Aunt Moira would be irritated if she was late to dinner. Just as she was about to turn back, she heard wheels once again and the mail cart came rolling down the hill. The mail man smiled when he saw her, knowing what she was waiting for.

“Good evening, Miss Emily!” He called, digging in one of the sacks in his cart. “I’ve got a letter and a package with your name on it!” Emily hurried to the cart, not yet daring to pull her hands from the warm safety of the muff. The man sorted through his sack before pulling out a brown paper wrapped package with an envelope securely tied to it. Emily quickly took it and secured it under her arm.

“Thank you sir. Have a nice day!” She chimed, turning to rush back to the house. She no longer cared about the cold, all she wanted to do was get back to the house, run upstairs to her room, and read and reread Lena’s letter. She quickly approached the manor, opened the door, and swiftly dove inside to the foyer. She was met with the goofy face and wagging tail of Darwin, one of her aunt’s dogs. Smiling, she scratched his ears before starting up the stairs.

“Emily” Emily stopped and turned to where the foyer led to the parlor. Her aunt, a picture of refinement and class with her bright ginger hair and long violet skirts, stood in the entryway with Darwin at her side.

“Did you forget we had a guest for dinner?” She asked smiling with light amusement as she began to mindlessly stroke Darwin’s ears. Emily could feel the heat blossoming in her face. That must have been the cab she saw earlier Aunt Moira chuckled affectionately.

“That’s alright, darling. Go upstairs and put your coat and mail up. I hope it can wait until after dinner, Gabriel’s friend has arrived.” Emily quickly nodded her thanks. Her Aunt was charming and always treated Emily kindly, but Emily knew she would never be able to converse at her level. She was too knowledgeable about things Emily could never hope to understand and Emily hated feeling so ignorant. Reluctantly, she left the package on her dressing table, hung her coat on the hook inside the wardrobe, and hurried downstairs, nearly tripping over her dark green skirt. 

A woman in a dark gray dress with simple black trimming and buttons sat on the Sofa across from her uncle’s chair. What surprised Emily most was the blue scarf covering her hair. Aunt Moira sat in her own armchair with Darwin and his brother, Brunel, at her feet. Uncle Gabe glanced her way and gave a pressed smile.

“Ana, I don’t believe you’ve met my niece.” His tone was cordial, as it often was when he introduced her to friends and clients alike. Emily knew he was more fond of his own sister’s child. Olivia was more clever, charming, knowledgeable, and adaptable then Emily had ever been. Even Aunt Moira cared more for her older cousin’s company, though Emily knew She’d never admit it. The woman’s head turned to look at Emily. After a moment, she smiled.

“Well aren’t you lovely.” Commented Ana. She patted the place on the sofa next to her. “Come sit with us. Your Uncle was just telling me about the construction in the colony he sponsors.” Emily hesitantly sat and smoothed her skirts. 

“The architect is incredibly efficient and imaginative. All of the designs are neat, but stylish and it all remains within budget. He and his daughter will be moving here in February. I’ve already covered the legal papers and set up most of their living arrangements. If possible, I’d like to find a maid for their home when they arrive, just as a welcome gift. If everything goes according to plan, Mr. Vaswani should be able to begin paying for his house after his first six months here. Based on how quickly industry is growing, there’s a high demand for factories. I’ve even found a young man interested in partnering business with him. Based on his resume, Vaswani would be foolish to refuse the offer.” Ana nodded with a smile.

“That’s wonderful! Let me know when you start looking for maids, I think I can make a recommendation. You say he has a daughter?” She asked, looking at Emily and back at Gabe. Uncle Gabe noticed the glance and cleared his throat.

“Yes, Satya. If I recall correctly, she’s just a little older than Emily, about Olivia’s age. Olivia tells me they’ve become good friends.” Emily deflated. Still Olivia. A maid walked into the parlor.

“Dinner is ready, Mr. Reyes.” Uncle Gabe nodded and the group stood and walked into the dining room. Sitting in the chair at the right of the table head was an older man wearing a black frock coat and a scarlet waist coat. Monsieur Maximillian.

“Maximilian.” Greeted Uncle Gabe warmly. “You should have told me you were here.” Maximilian greeted her uncle with a handshake. 

“Do not worry. I only arrived a moment ago.” Maximillian turned his attention to the other two women. “Good to see you again, Ms. Amari, Moira.” The two women smiled and nodded politely to return the sentiment. The group seated themselves at the table and a maid brought in soup. As the maid was leaving, Darwin trotted in to loyally sit at his mistress’s feet. Gabriel glowered at the dog.

“Must you keep the dog in here, Moira?” He asked, clearly annoyed. This wasn’t new to Emily. Uncle Gabe hated Aunt Moira’s dogs. Aunt Moira gazed cooly back.

“He’s well trained and doesn’t beg. I fail to see the issue.” Uncle Gabe returned his glare to the dog. They were going to argue about this. Aunt Moira sighed in irritation. She hated arguing in front of company.

“Darwin, parlor.” She ordered after giving the Dobermann one last scratch behind the ear. The black and brown dog trotted to the parlor with only a glance back at Aunt Moira. He really was well trained.

“So how’s business, Ana?” Asked Uncle Gabe. Ana paused at the question and swallowed the bite of soup she’d taken.

“Wonderful, as usual. But I technically no longer own the plantation. That belongs to Fareeha now and I’m certain she’ll make well informed and smart decisions.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve told her not to sell to you and that is advice she agrees without wholeheartedly.” Uncle Gabe gave her a tired look.

“My mills create a great deal of the textiles produced in Britain. It would be a very advantageous business move for you.” Ana just sipped from her glass.

“It would be. It would also be a smart business move to sell to Jack Morrison. But I don’t care about business deals as much as I care for two of my companions, both of which ate acting like children. I’ll sell to both of you once you stop this nonsense.” Uncle Gabe stiffened at the name. Who was Jack Morrison?

“You’re being foolish, Ana.” He warned gently.

“I assure you, Gabriel. It’s all for the best.” Replied Ana.

“This won’t be the last offer I make you.” He added. Aunt Moira huffed almost silently, but Uncle Gabe still managed to pick it up. His gaze turned cold.

“Have you anything to add to that dear.” He questioned, sarcasm tinting the last word. Aunt Moira set down her soup spoon before continuing.

“It isn’t unreasonable to assume the answer Ms. Amari gives you now will not change. All evidence suggests Ms. Amari’s answer will remain the same and it seems fruitless to continue asking when that energy could be devoted elsewhere.” Uncle Gabe assumed that tired look again.

“Perseverance, Moira.” He stated.

“You’ve passed the point of perseverance, Darling.” She retorted, the endearment holding the same bite Uncle Gabe’s had. “You’re expecting different results from a process without changing any procedures. It’s useless.” They were definitely about to argue.

“Aunt Moira?” Emily Interrupted hesitantly, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to sit through an equally rude argument. The redhead turned to look at her niece.

“I think I may have caught a chill while waiting on the mail. May I be excused for the night?” She almost winced. The excuse sounded lame, even to her ears. By the sympathetic look Ana’s face, she didn’t appear to have achieved the subtlety she was hoping for. Aunt Moira’s irritated expression softened, clearly realizing her conduct hadn’t been polite.

“Of course, darling. Perhaps wear a second coat next time. Sleep well.” Emily nodded and kissed her Aunt’s cheek on her way out of the dining room. Remembering she had a package, she rushed up the stairs and into her room. She picked up the package and detangled the letter from the twine before opening it. She almost laughed. It would appear she and Lena had had similar Ideas of what to make the other for Christmas. Inside the box was a thickly knitted green scarf. She opened the letter.  
……..  
Dear Emily,  
Thank you for the jumper! It’s the warmest thing I’ve ever worn! You’re right, it is a shame you’re not here for Christmas, but it sounds like your Aunt needs someone other than your uncle to keep her sane. I know she loved your gift, you’re a brilliant gift giver. What do you mean “I worry I’m too dull for her”? You’re the least dull person I know, love. Don’t worry about me, after the mill burned down, the foreman adopted loads of fire safety rules. It’s a shame about that boy. James, I think it was? He brought me the bobbin crates you know. I would read aloud to him and the other bobbin girls on quiet days, as rare as they were. It’s really a shame what happened to him. Someone blamed him for setting the fire and he was sent to the Australian colonies for arson. He was young too, maybe ten I reckon. By the time it was published in the papers that they’d found the lighter stuck in the Jenny, he’d already been put on a ship to the colonies. I was with him the whole hour before the fire spread and the loom fell through the ceiling, so there’s no way he could have done it. Anyways, don’t fret about fires. I’m working first floor looms. Come home soon, I miss you!  
Love, Lena  
……..  
Nora,  
Of course I remember you, how could I forget. Even so I probably wouldn’t recognize you or your sister. Last time I saw the two of you, you could barely walk and Henrietta had a doll stuck to her hip. It never ceases to amaze me how much the two of you have grown. If you need, I can begin sending more money for the telegrams. You’ll have to tell me more about this lace of Henrietta’s. If it’s nearly as nice as your mother’s, it must be impressive. I don’t think there’s a woman on this earth that sews as well as your mama. Life is busy here, but I enjoy it. Once I arrived, I went into business with a kid that was a year or two younger than you are now. He’s older now, but I can’t say he’s gotten any more responsible. He’s still good to have around though. I think you would like the sheep. Most people do. We’ve got a strange one too. Jamison calls her Firecracker. I don’t mind that you’re reading my books. You’re a smart girl, I hope they put your mind to use. Might I suggest Gulliver’s Travels, or if you can get to the library, Little Women? Jamison and his friend, Satya, are fond of those. I recently attended a Christmas party. I have included a picture of the attendees, myself included. I am sorry the majority if my face is covered, but you wouldn’t like what’s underneath.  
\- Papa  
…………  
Satya stared dumbfounded at her hair. Just four hours ago, she and Madame Lacroix had left Angela’s house to study and prepare for the party. Four hours ago, Madame Lacroix had instructed her to sit on the dressing table stool while the governess combed through her hair with a wet brush, split it into sections, and tightly wound it around strips of cloth before handing her a french spelling book and shooing her away to sit on the bed while the governess repeated the process with her own hair. The end result? The weirdest looking curls Satya had ever seen. Madame must have noticed her doubtful look at the strangely smooth ringlets beginning at the base of her head, because she chuckled lightly.

“You don’t wear them like that.” She Explained with a smile. “You pin them back tightly. Here, watch.” Satya watched as the governess pulled her own ringlets tightly to the upper back of her head, one by one, and pinned them in place. Though the curls had shortened her hair significantly, it still fell over her shoulders. Satya copied the governess and stared at her own hair, unused to seeing her reflection like this. Madame Lacroix stepped up behind her and put her hands on Satya’s shoulders.

“This style is popular nowadays. It’s impractical here because of the heat, but in most places in Europe, it’s becoming quite the trend. I’ve noticed some women around town wearing it this way in celebration for the holidays.” Madame Lacroix dug through their wardrobe before pulling out a dark red and a dark blue skirt with their matching blouses. “I imagine Angela and Olivia will fix their hair this way too. If not Angela, certainly Olivia.” She handed the blue skirt to Satya. “Change out of those, you’ve got flour on them.” She said, gesturing to Satya’s slightly flour streaked skirt. As the two women changed, Satya glanced at the window. The sun was starting to set. It must be at least six. Madame Lacroix noticed this too.

“Satya, go see that your father is ready to leave. You might also check the clock while you’re downstairs.” Satya nodded and left the room. As she crossed the parlor to her father’s office, she looked at the grandfather clock. Six thirty eight. 

Approaching the office door, she knocked lightly three times. 

“Enter.” Answered Hassan. Satya turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Tandri?” She called, entering the office. Hassan glanced up, looked back at the desk, and made a double take when he noticed Satya’s hair.”

“What is….” He trailed off gesturing confusedly at the back of his head. Satya smiled apologetically.

“Madame Lacroix’s idea.” She explained, tugging at one of the curls and watching it spring back into place. Hassan laughed.

“It looks nice. Different, but nice.” He turned back to his work and scribbled something on a roll of paper. Satya curiously walked over to look at her father’s blueprint. It appeared to be a design for the shearing board with equations and measurements scribbled in the margins. One of the measurements detailing the roof caught her eye.

“Tandri, I think your math is wrong.” She commented, pointing to the measurement. Hassan looked at her and looked back the equation.

“It appears that you forgot to account for the smokestacks.” She continued, pointing to the diagram. “This should be a five and that should be a two.” She rubbed the pencil away and replaced the equation with the correct values. Hassan nodded slowly before shaking his head.

“Thank you.” He said, amusement in his tone. “Sometimes I wonder who’s really the architect.” Satya rolled the blueprint up and placed it in the basket.

“Nonsense.” She dismissed. “You work too hard.” She cleared the desk of all drawing utensils. “Are you ready to leave? The party will start soon and Madame Lacroix wants to arrive early so she can help Angela with any last minute preparations.” Hassan nodded, stood, and straightened his waistcoat.

“Yes. I apologize for the delay.” The two set out into the parlor where Madame Lacroix sat in an armchair reading a book. She glanced up at the footsteps and closed the book.

“Ready?” She asked. The pair nodded and walked out the door to the neighboring house. 

The usual hurried footsteps didn’t follow Hassan’s knock. Instead, calm, weighted steps increased in volume as they neared the entrance. The door was opened by Genji, who was dressed nicely in grey slacks and a dark green waistcoat.

“Welcome!” He greeted. “Mr.Vaswani! I’d wondered if you would be joining us, please, come in!” The three entered and walked to the parlor where they were met by Angela, who was indeed sporting the same curled style.

“Amelie! Satya! Mr. Vaswani!” You’re early!” She greeted as she placed another plate on the table. Madame Lacroix nodded in acknowledgment. 

“We wanted to be here just in case you needed something.” Angela smiled happily.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I still need to finish plating the food and move the piano into the sitting room, but otherwise, I’ve finished.” Hassan smiled.

“I feel certain Genji and I can handle moving an upright piano. Let’s do that now.” Genji in turn gestured to the piano in the corner. The two men stood on either side and began to slowly maneuver the piano out of the parlor.

“Satya and I can finish plating.” Began Madame Lacroix. “Is everything in the kitchen?” Angela nodded gratefully as she began folding napkins and placing them on plates.

Satya and Madame Lacroix stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, Satya was overwhelmed with delicious smells. On the kitchen table, the soup was steaming in a decorative silver pot with a matching ladle. The mutton has been sliced and placed on platter lined with kale, and a neatly sculpted pudding sat on a plate decorated with fresh fruit. All that was left to do was plate the tuna and potatoes. Just as Madame Lacroix and Satya we’re finishing, a knock sounded at the door, to which Angela hurried to answer.

“Jesse! Olivia! Oh, aren’t you a vision. Please come in! Satya and Amelie are in the kitchen and Mr. Vaswani and Genji are fixing the piano. Do you think you could play for us after dinner, Olivia?” The three figures walked down the hall and just as Satya stuck the spoon in the potatoes, Olivia entered the kitchen and another knock sounded at the door.

“Mei! Come inside! Aw, you didn’t have to bring food. I’m sure it will be wonderful!” Angela waltzed in in a flurry of pale yellow skirts, followed by mei who carried a basket. Angela examined their work.

“This is wonderful! Thank you for helping me last minute, I really appreciate it. I think we can go ahead and take this out the the table.” Needing no other instruction, the five women began moving food to the table. As they were arranging the platters and bowls, another knock came to the door. Angela scurried to answer it.

“Jamison! Mr. Rutledge! Come in! Everyone is in the dining room, so come join us! I guess we’re just waiting on Hanzo now.”

The two graziers walked behind Angela as she entered the dining room. Satya was shocked. For the first time she’d ever seen him, Jamison was clean and wearing a shirt without holes. Not only that, he was wearing a beige waistcoat. An actual waistcoat. It looked terribly out of place on him, but nonetheless, charming. He must have noticed her surprised face, because he was smugly trying not to cackle. That was until he caught sight of the mutton. Satya smiled sympathetically as he drew nearer.

“It’ll be alright,” she soothed quietly. “You don’t have to eat her.” He nodded solemnly and ripped his gaze from the platter. Another knock.

“That must be Hanzo.” Surmised Angela excitedly as she ran to answer the door. 

“Hello! Oh. What is that? Never mind, let me help you with it.” Hanzo walked down the hall carrying a large wooden box, Angela following with a tripod and a folded piece of heavy fabric. Genji perked a the sight of the object.

“How did you manage to find someone to lend you a camera?” He asked, amazed. Hanzo gave his brother a satisfied smirk.

“I have useful friends.” He said simply, still smirking” Angela clasped her hands together happily.

“How wonderful! We can take a photograph after dinner! But please, sit down.” Her cheerful tone became more serious. “We’ve spent all day preparing for this meal and I refuse to let it grow cold.” Everyone nodded and took their seat in a mismatched chair around the table. Chatter began almost at once. 

“So” began Angela. “I hear you’ll be leaving us in February.” Hassan nodded with a bittersweet smile. 

“I’m afraid so.” He forked a piece of mutton onto his plate. “The building designs should be finished by then and construction should start in March. If any of you like, you may come by any time tomorrow to see the new designs for housing, and if you wish, Miss Ling Zhou,” at this he turned his attention to Mei. “I will talk you through the designs for the new school house. Thank you for your suggestions, they were very useful.” Mei smiled as she took another spoonful of soup.

“Thank you for designing it, I’m sure it’s lovely.” Hassan nodded.

“So what will you do when you get to England?” Asked Angela, taking a sip of the mulled wine she’d put on the table.

“I’ve received an offer to go into business with a Mr. Sanjay Korpal, just a few years older than Satya. His record is impressive and he’s obviously good at what he does. I’ve been exchanging telegrams with him for the past two weeks.” He dabbed at his mustache with his napkin. “Vishkar corporations is the name we’ve chosen. The invention. I think it’s quite fitting. All we have left to do is find an office.” Angela smiled brightly.

“How wonderful!” She speared a piece of tuna with her fork. “Does anyone else have news to share?” At this she glanced around the table. Mako cleared his throat. He’d turned his bandanna slightly to make eating easier. Though Satya still couldn’t see all of his face, she was able to make out thick, graying scruff parted with deep scars.

“I received a telegram from my daughter yesterday.” At this Angela’s eyes widened?

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” The corner of his lips turned up fondly.

“Yeah. Got two of ‘em. And a wife.” Angela’s smile just turned up. Mako had the entire table’s attention.

“Well don’t hold out on us! What did it say?” Angela quipped impatiently. 

“This one’s the youngest. Nora. She an’ her sister are maki’n lace, she wants to hear more about Jamison and the sheep. She’s been readi’n my books. Real proud she’s got a good mind.” Angela still wasn’t satisfied.

“What about your other daughter? And your wife? I want to know all about them.” Mako began to look uncomfortable with the amount of attention he was receiving.

“Been writing to Eloise. That’s my wife. She likes hearing about all of you. Henrietta hasn’t written.” Angela still didn’t look satisfied, but didn’t ask anymore.

“Anyone else?” She asked hesitantly. Satya narrowed her eyes. It almost looked as if she was nervous. Genji smiled from across the table.

“I’ve got news.” Everyone looked at him. “I got married last night.” The silence was deafening. Genji continued.

“I got married to this lovely lady sitting next to me.” He stood and moved behind Angela’s chair to place his hands on her shoulders. She smiled sheepishly. Everyone began speaking at once. Only Hanzo didn’t appear surprised.

“Married?” Exclaimed Mei, shock written all over her face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”Angela shrugged, embarrassed. 

“We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. We had Hanzo as a witness, but otherwise, it was small and private.” No one appeared to know what to do with this information until Madame Lacroix spoke up.

“Well, I think it’s a splendid match. Congratulations, Angela, Genji.” She stood and picked up her wine glass.

“To new beginnings and a happy new year?” She proposed. Everyone stood and tapped glasses with one another and took a sip. Satya nearly winced. She was not a fan of mulled wine. Dinner finished with pleasant chatter and an enthralling discussion about the sixth book of Virgil’s Aeneid. Enthralling discussion meant Hassan and Madame Lacroix having a thoughtful discussion on roman literature while some listened in eagerly and others sat politely.

After dinner, Angela quickly ushered everyone into the sitting room, which had been cleared of all furniture but the piano. Jamison’s arm laid on the top. The appendage caught Angela’s attention and she hurried to retrieve it. The leather harness securing the arm to both shoulders now had wire running through the series of loops that connected to the mechanism that moved the arm with the shoulder.

“Jamison, come try this!” She encouraged excitedly. Jamison allowed her to carefully connect the appendage to his stump and slide the harness over the other shoulder. He stood still, unsure what to do. Angela smiled.

“Shift your other shoulder to the side.” Jamison did so and the arm bent at the elbow. He rolled his shoulder and the wires pulled the hand into a fist. Jamison stared in awe before releasing the fist and holding out the prosthetic for a handshake, which Angela gladly took.

“Thanks Ange.” He said, still looking at the prosthetic in wonder. Angela laughed amusedly.

“You’re welcome.” She replied before shooing everyone to the back of the room as Hanzo set up the camera, uncovering the lense and pinning the hood to the camera box. Five chairs were pulled in from the dining room and the women sat in the front while the men filled in behind them. Satya felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Jamison gently gripping it with his flesh hand.

“Alright” Ordered Hanzo as he ducked under the hood. “Hold still starting 3….2….1…” no one moved a muscle until a few moments later Hanzo pulled the hood from his head.

“That’s good. I’ll have copies in a week or so.” Angela laughed happily.

“Ok!” She began. “Let’s get these chairs out of here and start some music! Olivia? If you wouldn’t mind?” Olivia nodded and seated herself on a piano bench. By the time the chairs had been moved, a cheerful waltz was playing. Madame Lacroix gestured for Hassan to come to the center of the room as she pulled Satya from the corner in which she had been hoping to stay. Quickly, the governess explained the basics of the waltz to Hassan and counted off to the music. Like Satya’s first lesson, it was shaky.

“Just move in a box.” She reminded politely as her father stepped on her foot for the third time. He nodded and continued to watch their feet. At some point, Genji and Angela joined them, looking as if they had practiced beforehand. Hassan eventually got the hang of the steps and the two began to glide instead of stumble. 

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. She nodded happily, nudging her father to point out the piano they were about to run into. Hassan seemed about to say something, but a spindly metal finger tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Asked Jamison. “I’d like to try out the new arm.” He flexed the metal limb to punctuate the point. Hassan frowned, but nodded. Jamison took her hand and they joined Angela and Genji who were laughing in the middle of the living room while trying to keep moving on beat. This time there was no tripping or stepping on feet in the beginning as the two fell into the gentle sway of the waltz. 

“Works like a charm.” He commented nodding to the metal limb. Satya smiled. Suddenly the song ended and a lively mazurka began to play. She started to leave the floor but he stopped her.

“I think I remember this one.” He said, brow furrowed in concentration before a decisive grin adorned his features. “Let me teach you?” He asked. Satya only hesitated a moment before nodding.

“Ok, we start side by side.” He grabbed her hand and stepped a little further to the side. “Ok, for sixteen counts of three, you hop and step like this.” He demonstrated the step, peg leg clicking against the floor. “First to the right, then to the left.” He took her hand again. “Let’s try that. Wait three counts then start.” She nodded. Madame Lacroix was staring at her, suspicion adamant in her gaze. The two started moving. Hop step, hop step, hop step. To the left, to the right, to the left, to the right. 

“Ok, when we finish the sixteen I’m going pull you back to somethin like when we were waltzing. Now you hop step to the side instead of forward. Do this for eight counts of three.” He swung her in and started stepping to the right, slowly leading them around the living room. 

“After this, step to the right and put your hand on the left side of my waist. I’m gonna do the same. Hop step forward so that we turn in a circle. Eight counts again” She nodded, furrowing her brow in concentration as she executed his instruction. Eight counts later he pulled her back in and hop stepped to the side. They continued in different variations of the three steps he’d taught her. By the time the music stopped, he bowed clumsily, and she curtsied with a bit more grace, she was smiling. As they split, Satya to Madame Lacroix and Jamison to Mako, Madame Lacroix, though still appearing wary, smiled at her, satisfied.

“You learn quickly.” She spared a glance at Jamison. “I didn’t know he could dance.” Satya looked at Jamison before turning to Madame Lacroix. 

“Someone must have taught him before he left Britain.” She replied quietly. Madame Lacroix nodded unsurely. 

“Must be.” She replied shortly, her gaze lingering on Jamison. She stood.

“It’s late, we should be leaving. Let’s excuse ourselves and go home.” Satya stood and hesitantly nodded. She didn’t want to leave.

………….

Hassan,  
How wonderful! I’d hoped you’d accept my offer. I’ve found a quaint little office in a well known part of town. It has room enough for two desks in the front, a back area for filing and a clerk if we decide we need one, and a loft that would be excellent for storing materials. The landlord has agreed to a monthly payment plan, should we decide to start business there. I look forward to meeting both you and your daughter upon your arrival in London. Happy New year to you both.  
\- Sanjay Korpal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter, have a lovely day!
> 
> Mazurka  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tR3oOmvx5ew
> 
> Waltz  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fXqre5Egnmo
> 
> 1870s hair  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YN3h_YHZv6k


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for not updating. I am incredibly sorry. I am also incredibly sorry for the amount of romantic literature references in this chapter. I just finished a unit on the romantic literature movement and enjoyed it more than I should have.

My dearest Lena,  
Today is a wonderful day! If the foreman at the mill can spare you a week two months from now, we will be able to see each other again! My uncle is hosting a formal dinner on The twenty seventh of march to celebrate Olivia’s return as well as the arrival of the architect and his daughter from the Australian colony. Madame Lacroix will be there as well. Surely you remember her. I don’t know why but you always seemed to sour her mood and she had nothing against making sure you knew it. Aunt Moira and I are planning the dinner. She loathes this kind of work, but as the lady of the manor, it is her job. This is why I help her. Usually Olivia would plan uncle’s parties, I might add they’re always wonderful, but since she is not here I have offered to help. It’s a great deal more fun than I had imagined and I hope I can plan and direct as well as Olivia. Aunt Moira says if you can attend the dinner she will send a cab for you on the twenty fourth of march and you can stay the week at nocturne manor. She has been wanting to meet you for a while. I have enclosed a formal invitation. Even though Uncle doesn’t own the mill in which you are employed, his name should be a familiar one with your foreman. If you show him the invitation it should be easy to get the time off. I cannot wait to see you again!  
With greatest love, Emily 

 

Dusk covered the sky in a dim, hazy, heat that, while cooler than the day, was still quite warm. Satya sighed happily, gently readjusting her head where it lay on Jamison’s shoulder. The two had spent the quiet Saturday reading to each other while sitting in a little nook that had been carefully formed in the barn’s haystack. Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, and Oliver Twist sat in a small stack next to Jamison’s other shoulder, close enough to ward off any curious or hungry sheep. February was quickly approaching and Satya had spent every spare moment she had with Jamison. Neither wanted to leave the other. Satya knew she couldn’t stay in Australia and if Jamison tried to go to England, the government would either send him back, incarcerate him off shore, or go through with the death penalty he would have received if he’d been older at the time of the fire. There was no good way out of the situation. 

“What if I get on the ship an’ pretend to be one of the sailors?” Satya jolted from her thoughts. She shook her head.

“No. The captain would eventually realize he has an extra man. Also, you’re not the most subtle looking sailor.” She tugged at his metal hand to punctuate her point. She watched his brow furrow in concentration before his face lit up.

“What if we took the grocer’s wife, dressed her in your clothes, and put her on the ship instead? She looks enough like you, if she didn’t say noth’in and kept ‘er head down, maybe they wouldn’t realize she’s not you until it’s too late t’turn around!” Satya shot him an unamused look. 

“That plan has little chance of success and you know it. The grocer would never give up his wife, nor would the grocer’s wife leave the grocer.” Jamison sighed and let his head fall back into the hay.

“What’re we gonna do?” He asked, dejectedly running his good hand through his hair. His gaze fell to the stack of books. 

“I don’t wan’ t’end up like Heathcliff and Cathrine.” He said softly, picking up Wuthering Heights. Satya’s mood immediately fell. Would they really never be happy with each other if she left? Her gaze fell to Agnes Grey. Picking the book up, she exchanged it with Jamison and smiled, taking Wuthering Heights for herself. 

“I hope we’ll be more like Agnes and Edward.” Jamison looked at the book before smiling back at Satya. 

“Reunited on the seashore? Didn’t know y’were that much of a sap.” Satya shook her head.

“I’ll come back. I don’t know when or how, but I’ll come back.” He pulled her closer.

“You’d better.” He he replied firmly.

It was dark as Jamison handed Satya her books. She carefully picked out Agnes Grey and handed it back to him. He shot her a puzzled look.

She grinned lightly. “Keep it.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“It’s a promise.”

 

Mako Rutledge turned the page in his copy of Pride and Prejudice. Some might think it cliché and sappy, but frankly, he didn’t give the thoughts of others a penny’s worth of caring. At least in regards to romance novels. He would read what he liked and no one could say anything to make him drop that belief. He heard the stairs creak and shutter as Jamison hurried down. He’d been up there for the better part of two hours doing who knows what. The younger man briskly walked over to Mako’s chair and handed him a piece of paper.

“I think I got the grammar right mostly. Been awhile since I needed it though, so will y’make sure? Maybe help me make the words more fancy? Kinda like a business letter.” Mako was surprised. Why did Jamison need a formal paper. Regardless, Mako nodded and accepted the paper. Jamison smiled grimly.

“Thanks mate.”

 

Mother,  
Please read this before throwing it away. Before I state my intent, know that I do not expect a response, nor do I particularly want one. I have made a life for myself here and I imagine you want no part of it, but part of that life will be leaving for London and if you should meet her, I hope you will treat her kindly regardless of any connection to me, who I assume you’d rather forget. This young lady’s name is Satya Vaswani. If father builds another mill, I imagine he may work with her father on building designs. If I remember correctly, which I very well may not, he worked with a Mr. Korpal on the last mill? Mr. Vaswani is going into business with a Mr. Korpal. If circumstances are right and Miss Vaswani needs help returning to Australia, please assist her. I know I am not in a position to ask for your favor, but this shall be the only request I make of you. I can say with certainty that I feel more ardently about this than you felt about me at the time I was disowned. Please set any anger with me aside. I know that will be difficult.

\- Jamison A. Fawks

 

Warren Fawks was furious. He was furious at life, he was furious at the government, he was furious at his son, and he was furious at the idiot who decided an eleven year old was capable of burning down a four story building. A telegram from Australia for Madeline had arrived during dinner and after just reading the first few lines, she’d ran, sobbing from the dining room. Rebecca had picked it up in her mother’s stead. After reading it, she’d handed it to Warren with no other words than “It’s from Jamie” before walking off in the direction of the parlor. The sounds of Mozart drifted into the dining room, the notes holding a cold air that Warren had never recalled hearing from his daughter’s music. Virginia, only nine years old, looked between her father, the parlor, and the door to her mother’s bedroom, not knowing what the commotion was about. 

“Who’s Jamie?” She asked, noting the serious face with which her father read the telegram. He looked at her from over his spectacles.

“No one you need worry about yet.” He replied as he stood and walked through the parlor to his wife’s room. He knocked. The assent to entry was muffled with tears. Warren found his wife sitting at her dressing table sorting through the photographs of the family that included Jamison they’d had to get rid of when Virginia was born. Madeline had been against throwing them out, so he’d put the photos in an empty cigar box, hoping the smell would eventually convince her otherwise. Jamison wasn’t coming back. Neither of them needed the constant reminder of what they’d lost.

“He thinks we don’t love him Warren.” She whispered shakily. Warren carefully knelt in front of her, taking one of her hands in his and using the other to tilt her head so she was looking at him.

“We disowned him, Madeline. We weren’t allowed to talk to him at the surgeon’s or the court. We’ve had no choice but to give him that impression. We agreed it was best he be given that impression. Our family cannot survive in society with an arsonist for a son.” Madeline glared.

“Since when has society been more important than our children” she began harshly, but the bite was lost in the shaking of her voice. “You told me there was no way he could have set that fire. You let him work with the bobbin girls on the second floor. The spinning frames were on the third floor. You —“ Madeline burst into tears again. Sighing, Warren pulled his kerchief from his pocket and gently pried Madeline’s hands from her face. The tears didn’t stop.

“He was in pain and confused! He needed us Warren, we should have been there!” Warren vainly dabbed at his wife’s cheeks in an attempt to stop the sobbing. When that didn’t work, he carefully pulled her to the ground beside him as she wept into his shoulder. If he strained his ears he could hear the gentle crescendo of Rebecca’s frozen piano.

“Write to him. I’ll send a telegram tomorrow. We’ll have to figure out what to tell Virginia.”

Yes, Warren Fawks was furious about many things, but for the sake of his wife, his son would no longer be one of them.

Jamie,  
It pains me to think that you would not want to hear from me. We have worried about you since the day of the fire. You would be twenty one now. What have you done about your arm and leg? I would very much like to know all about this life you’ve created for yourself, I would also like to know more about this girl you’ve asked me to take under my wing if need be. Clearly you must be fond of her. Rebecca misses you very much and Virginia has already written multitudes of letters for the brother she’s never met. You probably remember that I was pregnant with her at the time of the fire, but she was born after you left. Your father did work with Mr. Sanjay Korpal. An older man. If I remember correctly, his son now runs the company. He would be about your age. For a while, your father considered setting up an arrangement between him and Rebecca. He dismissed such a notion quickly, but it was discussed. Do not worry about Miss Vaswani. If we cross paths I will care for her and if she should want to find her way back to you, I will do everything in my power to make sure she does.  
With love, your mother, Madeline Vincent Fawks 

Jamison Fawks was confused. He was confused about life, he was confused about the government, he was confused about his mother and he was confused about whatever fate led his mother to write back to him. Not the kind of confused that constantly addled his brain in things like keeping track of the sheep or determining whether or not someone was mocking him, but the confusion that comes when someone tells you two plus two equals five. There’s absolutely no way for things to add up. The telegram had arrived during dinner and after reading just the first few lines, he wandered, confused, out to the haystack in the barn. There was a tap at his shoulder and he looked up to see Satya clutching a small stack of books and looking down at him, worried.

“I called your name twice. What’s bothering you?” Jamison gave her a weary grin as she sat down next to him.

“My mum wrote me.” He murmured, clutching at the telegram. Satya frowned.

“Is that a bad thing?” He shook his head.

“No, I don’t guess it is. Really weird though.” She turned her head to the side.

“Why?” He scratched the back of his neck before flopping back into the haystack.

“First, they disowned me. Weird thing t’do if they loved me. The girl that I told you played piano is my sister, not my cousin. Weird that I couldn’t remember that. And t’ice the cake, my mum was pregnant when I got arrested. I’ve got a little sister I’ve never met and I completely forgot I already knew she was gonna be born.” At this, he tossed the telegram into the air and watched as it floated down a few feet away onto the top of one of the sheep’s heads. Satya stood and collected the telegram before someone decided it would make the perfect midday meal. She handed it back to him.

“Jamison, you fell through the ceiling of a burning building after a piece of heavy machinery fell on top of you. After that you went through two amputations. I’m surprised you actually lived and got away with as little damage as you did. A little loss of memory or confusion isn’t unfathomable.” He grinned wryly. 

“I guess not. Should probably write her back then?” Satya smiled 

“I would. If her letter is genuine, she’ll be very happy to hear from you.” Jamison nodded before setting the telegram aside and turning to the stack of books Satya had brought.

“So what’ve y’brought?”

Yes, Jamison Fawks was confused about many things, but for Satya’s sake, his family wouldn’t be one of them. Mako was going to be proofreading a lot of letters.

 

Mother,  
I am sorry for the previous letter. It was cold and harsh. I might add that the next few letters may be terribly formal with messy script. I haven’t written in the queen’s English in a while and the man in business with me reads over my letters. He’s had more experience with proper writing than I and I believe that if I were to write the way I speak, you would be unpleasantly surprised. You wanted to know about Satya. She moved to the colony in summer of last year with her father, who was redesigning everything. At first I thought she was extremely uptight and narcissistic, but I think that was because her manners were better than anyone else in the colony. She plays piano, like Rebecca and she draws and reads. Sometimes she reads to me while I’m at the shearing board or working in the barn. That’s what I do here, care for sheep and shear their wool. I get along fine without my arm and leg. My business partner has helped me make a peg and the doctor down the street managed to fix an eerie looking metal arm that I can move by moving my other shoulder. It was a wonderful Christmas present, and though I am still getting used to it, it will be a great help once I adjust to it. Tell Virginia she can send as many letters as you’ll allow her. I am curious as to what she’s like. Thank you for agreeing to look after Satya if the need arises. I’m forever thankful for this favor.  
\- Jamison A. Fawks 

Lena Oxten was having a wonderful day. The day before, she’d received a letter from Emily, the foreman hadn’t yelled when she’d given him her invitation and asked for time off, only one of the looms was needed today, so she was back on bobbins, and because only one loom and a few Jennies were needed today, it was quiet enough in the factory to read aloud to everyone in the bobbin room. She had the Grimm’s book of fairy tales, volume one, opened in front of her and was just about to get to her favorite part of the twelve huntsmen when the foreman burst through the door, yelling as if all five looms were turned on in the next room.

“Lenora Oxten!” Grimacing at the use of her full name, she stood to wait for instructions. 

“Come here! The boss wants t’see you!” Surprised, Lena walked forward. It had to be about the time off she’d asked for, but why? She knocked as she came to the door of the office of Mr. Warren Fawks. Warren Fawks was a grim faced man of lanky build and freakishly tall height with wispy blond hair that was beginning to turn white at the roots. All three times Lena had seen him, he’d been wearing the same brown suit and the same deep scowl. A loud clearing of the throat gave her permission to enter.

“Lenora Oxten, sir. You asked to see me?” Without looking up, from his desk, he pulled the invitation from a pile of papers.

“Yes. You asked to take off from work from the twenty fourth of March to the first of April for the purposes of attending a dinner party to celebrate…” he paused as he pulled his spectacles on and read the invitation. “The homecoming of Olivia Colomar and the arrival of Mr. Hassan Vaswani and his daughter Miss Satya Vaswani.” Lena nodded.

“Yes sir. I know it’s a lot to ask considering we get cotton shipments on the twentieth, but Emily was quite insistent I stay the week. I will take less time if need be, but if possible, I would like to take the week.” 

Warren Fawks was silent for a moment before pulling off his spectacles and looking up at Lena. 

“How, if I may ask, do you know Mr. Hassan Vaswani or his daughter.” Lena shook her head.

“I don’t, sir. They are guests of a… good friend of mine, Emily O’Deorain. She’s the niece of Gabriel Reyes, the host of the party.” Warren stiffened at the name.

“I see.” He murmured as he leaned onto the table, pinching the bride of his nose as he thought. After a moment, he sat up.

“I’ll give you the time off.” Lena was internally bouncing off the walls with happiness. “But,” Inner Lena fell off the wall. “I want you to speak to Satya Vaswani. You don’t have to interrogate her, just simple, polite conversation. Did she enjoy her time in Australia? What kind of people did she meet? Did she have issues with any convicts? Simple things like that. I want to know the answers and how she seemed to feel about those answers. Sometimes people won’t say what they feel for the sake of society. Is this clear?” Lena was puzzled, but she nodded. She got to see Emily, what harm could Mr. Fawks possibly do with that sort of information? As she exited the office, inner Lena was back to running in circles and up the walls. Finally! She was going to see Emily!

 

Jamison,  
How good of you to finally write us. You should have written sooner. Mum was convinced some murderer in the colonies had killed you upon arrival. You’ve caused her a good bit of worry, you know. She cried for weeks after you left and cried for days when you wrote again. Virginia becomes animated at the very mention of your name. She’s got an entire hat box of letters to send you when mum and dad let her. She reminds me a lot of you when you were small. She’s very excitable, stubborn, and always finding something to laugh about. You would love her. I might as well use this letter as an opportunity to tell you I’m recently engaged. Two weeks ago to be precise. He’s a rather melancholy fellow by the name of Roderich Usher. His personality is queer, but tolerable and he’s a zealous patron of the arts. Because of this, someone decided we’d make a good match. If everything goes according to plan we will be married in may of next year. Virginia thinks he’s dull, so you would probably think the same. Mother has told us about this Satya you seem so fond of. From your letters, she sounds incredibly bright. Not to say anything about you or Virginia but neither of you are the sharpest tool in the box, unless by some means you’ve found a whet stone. I do hope you catch my meaning. The house has not much changed, other than your room is now Virginia’s and the walls are covered in tasteful floral wall paper. Virginia hates it as I’m sure you would. Dad’s insurance paid for most of the factory damage and it is back up and running. I hope you are happy and stay safe.  
\- Rebecca Fawks


	18. Chapter 18

My dearest, Lena,  
That’s wonderful! Of course you got the time off, you work harder than anyone I know. Your employer’s request is indeed strange. I have mailed with this letter my copy of Olivia’s Christmas photo. From her note on the back, Satya would be second from the left on the first row. In between Madame Lacroix and the woman with the light hair. Perhaps your employer would be more likely to let you have time off again if you started the task before he expects. Still, I wonder what his motive is. Warren Fawks, you said his name was? Perhaps I shall do some research of my own. My aunt is busy with her own and it’s difficult not to get caught up in the rare enthusiasm with which she speaks of it. I find it strange, but am willing to dismiss it, as I have not seen her so happy in the time I’ve spent at Nocturne. I visited her study just yesterday. She had soap, water, and rags in abundance and was sitting at her desk with a microscope. Beside the microscope, she had a series of test tubes from the college of medicine containing blood and saliva. She tried to explain what she was doing, but I only understand that the soap and water was to keep everything clean and that the samples were taken from those who had died of disease. This she has taught me enough about to elaborate upon. Disease spreads through a method of miasma, that is, smells. A war nurse from the war of 1871 provided a remedy for this. If you clean everything and keep your nose covered, you are much less likely to breathe in the disease! Isn’t science just wondrous! I believe she’s studying the samples to see if disease affects blood or saliva. Much jargon was used in the explanation and I was a little lost. She suggested that I read the work of Pasteur. Only eleven weeks until we are to see each other again!  
Love, Emily 

 

There was a loud thud as the first of four trunks hit the bottom of the cart. Satya gripped the thick grey skirt of her dress as the weight of what was happening hit her like an unexpected storm. They were leaving today. In a little over an hour, she would be standing on the pier of Port Arthur, and by noon she would be sailing away from Australia. Away from Jamison. Looking back at the door to which her father had retreated, she began to walk towards the graziers house. Hesitantly, she knocked at the door. It was Mako who answered it. Noting the plain skirt and jacket of her traveling dress, he leaned out of the door way to look at the wagon in the front yard.

“Leav'n t’day?” He asked, more a statement than a question. Satya nodded.

“Hm.” He replied. “I guess yer look’n for the rat?” Satya nodded again. He gave her an undeniable look of pity.

“Sorry t’tell you, but he left earlier this morn’n. Didn’t say where.” Satya felt her gaze slacken in what she imagined must have been a vague, surprised, expression. After reigning in control of her face, she steeled it into a cool mask.

“I see.” She said, inwardly cringing at how cold she sounded. “Thank you for your help. I’ll miss you, Jamison, and the sheep terribly. Please tell him that when he gets back.” Mako nodded.

“Course. I wish you the best, Miss Satya.” He replied, watching her leave. Thud. The second trunk. When she reached the cart once again, Angela stood, parcel in hand, speaking to Madame Lacroix. When Angela saw Satya approach, she stepped away and embraced the younger woman. When she let go, she had a stern look on her face.

“You will write to us. Once a month, if not more often. Your ship should take no more than eighty days to reach London. If I don’t receive a telegram in eighty five, I shall assume you drowned. Verstanden?” Satya gave her a small smile. The third trunk slid into its place.

“I will, don’t worry.”

“Here.” Began Angela, handing Satya the parcel she was carrying. A large book and a small drawstring bag. “Genji found a pretty piece of quartz in the mine that he thought you’d like and that’s a book on various illnesses, their symptoms, and treatments. It’s more interesting than it sounds and I hope it will give you something to do on the ship.” Satya smiled at the gift and embraced the older woman once more.

“Thank you. It’s very much appreciated. We will miss both you and Genji. Please extend the sentiment to Mei and Hanzo as well. A thud and clicking noise came from the cart. Jesse and Olivia had finished packing their luggage and Jesse was now sitting in the driver’s seat of the cart, that awful, gaudy hat firmly placed on his head. Olivia now laid over the trunks, head and hair hanging over the side of the cart. Madame Lacroix looked exhausted with her former student, and after a half hearted attempt to get her to sit up, she let Olivia be. Hassan helped Satya and Madame Lacroix into the back before climbing up himself and they were off, waving to Angela as she grew further away. 

The train was just as she remembered it. Her seat was just as uncomfortable and her father still accidentally sat on the edge off her skirt. As she waited for the train to leave, a pop sounded against the window. Looking out at the crowd of people boarding and exiting the train, she tried to determine what the noise had been. A rock hit the window and she looked down, almost directly underneath the window stood Jamison, waving at her with a grin. She felt a smile growing on her face as she waved back. He held up a finger, telling her not to look away as he untucked something from under his arm. It was her copy of Agnes Grey, reminding her of what she’d promised. She startled as the train began moving, slowly at first. Jamison pushed his way through the crowd as it moved and as it got faster, he began running as quickly as his terrible posture and uneven gait would allow. When the platform ended, he stopped and waved. Satya watched with a steadily depressing mood as his waving figure grew further and further away, just as Angela’s had. She turned back to the front. It would be alright. She knew she would see him again. She’d made a promise. But if everything was ok, why were her eyes wet?

 

Lena nervously knocked at her boss’s door, carefully clutching Emily’s picture. The call to enter came and she did so, pulling her shoulders back because Lena Oxten was a strong, confident woman and would behave so even if she didn’t feel that way at the present moment. Warren Fawks watched her curiously as she placed the picture on his desk. He picked it up and looked at it. Lena might have imagined it, but he appeared to hesitate for a moment. Lena wouldn’t blame him if he had. When she’d first looked at the picture, she would have sworn that Warren was in the picture. He cleared his throat.

“What am I looking at, Oxten?” Lena pointed at the dark skinned woman sitting in the front row. 

“That’s Satya Vaswani. This is a Christmas photograph taken at a party for the Christmas that just passed. My friend in London sent it to me. She thought you would like to see it. Warren gave a thoughtful grunt.

“She was right. I’m glad you brought this to me.” Lena nodded, wondering when he would hand her the photograph and dismiss her. She didn’t have a long lunch break and the foreman would have her head if her machine wasn’t up and running on time.

“You’re probably wondering why this girl interests me.” He stated, lighting a cigar. Lena tried not to cringe as she nodded. Rude. Warren turned the photograph to face her and pointed to the man she’d mistaken for Warren. 

“This is my son, Jamison. Miss Vaswani is a friend of his and I am curious.” Lena felt her face morph through several different stages of understanding. This couldn’t possibly be the boy from the fire. Could it? She squinted at the picture, looking for any indication of a missing limb.

“Is that…” She trailed, wide eyed. Warren sighed.

“Yes. He’s the one convicted of the fire ten years ago.” Lena felt her surprise slowly turn to anger.

“Why haven’t you done anything.” She murmured darkly. He gave her a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“He was on my floor the morning of the fire. They found the lighter responsible. Why haven’t you tried to bring him home?” Warren gave her a tired look.

“Do you think we didn’t try? The evidence they had against him was circumstantial and the only other thing they had to go off of was an anonymous tip from a source the court deemed credible. By the time they found the lighter, he had been shipped off and the case had been closed. They added the lighter to the case file and I could do nothing more.” He paused and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I hated him for being so unlucky. He didn’t mean to, but he brought misfortune upon his family even after he left. His mother wouldn’t eat, his eldest sister lost all friends and social connections, and business was poor even after the mill was rebuilt. I had to disown him so we wouldn’t starve.” Lena felt bad for yelling. This was obviously a subject of stress for her boss. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket, trying not to look embarrassed at the minor loss of composure.

“Do you mind if I take this home? I will return it to you before you depart for London. I’m certain my wife will want to see it.” Lena nodded, not knowing what else to say. Warren turned back into the stoic business man.

“Thank you Miss Oxten. You are dismissed.” 

 

Mr. Ogundimu,  
I’m pleased to tell you that all research is on schedule. The samples you arranged for me to receive are most useful. I’m starting to believe that, like Pasteur’s silk worms, these microscopic beasts I have found in the saliva of tuberculosis victims are not only a sign of the disease, but the disease itself. All research I have done, together with the research of other scientists, seems to nullify the miasma theory. While it is possible some diseases I have studied can be obtained by inhaling the microbes which cling to the dust, which is at best a weak example of the miasma theory, others must be ingested directly or come into some other direct contact with the infected. If my results are without error, there is much that can be done with this information. It would be a better cure than medicine and a better weapon than poison. I feel that I must add that my niece helped me come to this conclusion. She has been acting as my assistant by taking notes and cleaning equipment. She absorbs all information she has the base knowledge needed to understand and has a curiosity that rivals even mine. I ask you once again to let me take her on as a student. You lack the gender bias many harbor and can recognize a sound mind. I see no reason she will not become as good or a better scientist than I. I expect an answer by the time I send you the results from the fourth series of experiments. I have contacted an old friend from gibraltar to assist me with further research. Worry not, he knows nothing of you.  
Moira O’deorain

 

Dear Jamie,  
Greetings! I am Virginia Eleanor Fawks. You’ve never met me, but mum and Rebecca have told me lots about you and papa managed to get a photograph of you from this past Christmas. You look like papa. That made Rebecca laugh because she says you were nothing like papa. It made mum really happy though. Besides, your writing is too choppy to be like papa’s. Mum says you don’t need to bother with formalities and the queen’s English. Your friend is pretty. Not pretty like Rebecca, she’s a different kind of pretty. Mum says you don’t have an arm, but I couldn’t tell from the picture. Is it true? Ever since mum first told me about you, I’ve been telling Miss Orisa about you. I hope you don’t mind. Miss Orisa works the big loom on the first floor. She calls it Bastion. She says it talks to her sometimes but I think that’s because there’s a birds nest on the roof supports above it and sometimes twigs fall into the loom and make noise. I don’t want to tell papa about it because he’ll take the birds away. You would like Miss Orisa. When will we get to meet your friend? Mum wants to send her an invitation to tea, I think papa has a way to get it to her if you don’t know her address. Mum wants to ask her about you.  
Virginia Eleanor Fawks 

 

Dear Mr. Gabriel Reyes,  
Than you for the job offer, I accept it gratefully. I will arrive at the specified London townhouse the day before the arrival of your client so I can stock the pantry and do any necessary tidying before their arrival. If this is not agreeable to you, please respond as soon as possible.  
With greatest thanks, Hana Song

 

Like her arrival to Australia, Satya was on a ship sitting on an uncomfortable seat next to her motion sick father, listening to calm waves, cursing sailors, and irritated seagulls. Unlike her arrival to Australia, it was far colder, her uncomfortable seat had gotten smaller, her father was joined by an equally sick Jesse, and the sailors were fighting with Olivia, who was using equally vulgar language. Madame Lacroix sat unfazed, flipping through the book Angela had given Satya. By now Satya had read the book three times over and was about to crack if she didn’t get off this ship. The last time she’d seen land was at a stop in Gibraltar what she assumed was a week or so ago. There they had added a Dr. Winston to their patchwork of passengers. He’d been able to further explain Angela’s book and though not the best conversationalist, was much more interesting than any other on this wretched boat. Hassan tapped on her shoulder.

“Look, Satya.” Satya looked to where her father was pointing. Far off in the distance she could see a strip of land, growing closer by the second. On top of a tall pole, a barely visible glimpse of blue fluttered in the wind. The British flag. They had arrived.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy the new chapter though. Things are about to get complicated. I promise I'll update more frequently during the summer.

Moira,  
Once again, I must tell you no. Emily lacks the attitude and determination with which you approach your research. You tell me everything you find because you realize the magnitude of your findings but couldn’t care less how they are used. If you wish you may publish your most recent discoveries after the visit of the CEOs of Volskaya industries. I would say we could test this idea you presented to me telegram before last upon their arrival, but our objective is too important for any possible mistakes. I hope you understand this isn't because I doubt your work, but because it is imperative we get rid of Russian influence on the European market and any risk, no matter how slight, is a risk. It will be much less risky to continue with the current plan. I look forward to hearing the results of the additional trials. Thank you for keeping me updated. I will arrive in London within the week.  
⁃ A. Ogundimu

 

By the time they'd docked at the port, the sun was setting. The air was thick with petrichor and- Satya inhaled deeply before wrinkling her nose. Yep. That was definitely sewage. She was still sitting on the bench between Madame Lacroix and her father, whilst Jesse had spread out over the deck, hat over face, trying to calm his motion sickness. Olivia sat on the deck next to his prone figure, pestering him relentlessly. He didn't seem to have the energy to care. Suddenly, Madame Lacroix stood and made her way over to an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a scarlet waist coat. 

"Maximilian. How wonderful to see you again." She greeted it that tone Satya knew to be warm, even if it was Madame's typical "cold enough to freeze ale" tone, as Olivia called it. The new man took her offered hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Amelie." Ah, so they were friends. The gentleman looked over at Jesse, still laid out in the deck, before walking over and lightly placing a stack of papers on his chest. 

"You may leave the ship if you like Mr. McCree. A cab is waiting to take you, Miss Colomar, and Madame Lacroix to Nocturne." Needing no other explanation, Jesse leapt to his feet, grabbed his hat, and shoved the identification papers at the sailor waiting at the ramp going towards the pier. Sighing with a shake of his head, the gentleman began to pass out similar stacks of papers. As he did this, Satya came to a realization and turned to Olivia.

"Jesse is your brother, right? Why is your surname Colomar?" Olivia nodded, seeming to understand her confusion.

"He's my half-brother. Same dad, different mother. Jesse's mother was from Abilene, mine was from Reynosa. When, my mother died, I came to live with my uncle in Britain. My uncle just happened to stumble upon Jesse when visiting an engineer of one of those iron clad ships in the south United States." Satya pondered this.

"Was that not during the war over there?" Olivia smiled.

"Precisely why my uncle moved Jesse and the engineer to Britain." Satya nodded and turned her attention back to Maximilian, who cleared his throat.

"Madame Lacroix, Miss Colomar, you should get to the cab. Gabriel and Ms. Moira are waiting for you. Miss Emily also asked that I extend her welcome to all of you. She's ecstatic to see everyone and meet two new faces." This appeared to pique Olivia's interest.

"Emily is at Nocturne?" she asked, seemingly surprised. Maximilian nodded.

"Ms. Moira wished for company in your absence, Miss Colomar." Olivia gave a pleased smile.

"It's a pleasant surprise. I think she'll like Satya." Her brow furrowed. "Is her little friend with her? Laura, was it?" Maximilian nodded.

"Miss Lena will arrive early tomorrow morning."

"Merde" Everyone turned to look at Madame Lacroix, who seemed surprised at her own actions.

"My apologies." She began, pale face tinged with pink. "I did not mean to say that aloud." No one replied. Olivia, deciding it was more important to get home rather than tease the governess over her momentary lapse of manners, cheerfully skipped over to the sailor, who was watching with interest, and handed him her papers. After she had been cleared, she looked over her shoulder.

"Are we going home or are we spending another night in this wretched ship?" Madame Lacroix followed and allowed Maximilian to help her into the cab as she pulled her skirts out of the way. After the cab had left, the older gentleman turned back to Hassan. 

"It's only a few blocks to the town house you'll be living in. If we hurry, you may get there before Hana finishes dinner." Satya and her father exchanged a glance before Hassan spoke.

"Who is Hana? Is she a new governess? I thought Amelie had finished with Satya's education?" Maximilian raised an eyebrow before giving a good-natured chuckle.

"Gracious, no. Hana is the maid." Satya exchanged another look with her father. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm terribly sorry. It was gracious of you to hire a maid, but Satya and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves." Maximilian nodded.

"Of course, Mr. Reyes is very aware of that. But, Mr. Vaswani, you will be out of the house most of the day while Satya remains at home. If she is there with a maid, you won't need to worry about Satya being without company, nor the house being in order." Hassan reluctantly nodded, still uncomfortable with the idea. Maximilian stopped in front of a door belonging to a tall, narrow house in a long row of other tall, narrow houses. The only thing telling them apart was the color. This one was a light shade of yellow. Not ostentatious. Not unappealing. Completely normal and unassuming. Maxmilian opened the door and offered a small smile that wasn't strained, but Satya was hesitant to believe it was genuine.

"Welcome home." The floors were a light-colored wood, covered with a dark green rug. Stairs stood proudly in front of the door with two halls to the side. It didn't feel like home.

"I'll let you two have a look around while the shipyard men bring in your luggage." The older man pulled a silver watch from his pocket. 

"I really do hate to cut this meeting short, but I really must be going. I have to catch a train in twenty minutes." Hassan shook his hand and nodded.

"Hurry on then. You have our thanks." And with that, Maximilian stepped into the street and hurried off in the direction of the train station as two men started up the steps with the first trunk.

"Well" started Hassan. "Let's have a look around, yes?" Satya nodded and started to the left of the stairs. The walls were covered in green wallpaper patterned with leaves. Though Madame Lacroix had explained that green was a fashionable color, Satya found that the wallpaper made the room feel cramped and sickly, when paired with the deep yellow furniture. The small table bordered with chairs and a sofa made it clear this was the sitting room. Satya continued through the lower level.

Through one of the two doors off the sitting room, she had found an office, and through the other, a dining room. A door just off the dining room was cracked just enough to reveal the corner of a stove. As she approached it, the door swung open someone slammed into her, sending them both crashing to the floor. As Satya lifted her head, she saw her assailant, a small framed girl with dark hair wearing a plain gray dress and a stained, striped apron. Two scraps of pink ribbon secured two braids that hung by her face. The girl looked up, eyes flashing with irritation before the expression was steeled into one of practiced, though Satya doubted it to be real, submission. 

"I'm sorry, Miss Vaswani, I was not aware of your arrival." Satya stood, pulling the girl, Hana, up with her before attempting to straighten her skirts.

"No worries" she replied. "I was just looking around." Satya replied, noticing Hana's lip twitch as though she wished to say more. She settled for a nod before gesturing towards the hall.

"The bed chambers are upstairs. Would you like me to show you to yours?" Satya nodded with a polite smile.

"Yes, if you don't mind." Hana led her down the hall and up the stairs to one of the three doors Satya could see.

The room was slightly smaller than the one she'd shared with Madame Lacroix in Australia, but Satya loved the room immediately. Rather than the sickly patterned wallpaper found throughout the rest of the house, the walls were a clean white. There was a window on two of the walls, a pretty blue quilt over the bed, and a plain washstand, wardrobe, bookshelf, and dressing table. It was simple, neat, and elegant, just the way she liked things.

"Do you need any help unpacking?" Satya turned back to Hana, who stood in the doorway.

"No, I can manage. Thank you for the offer though." With that, Hana started back down the stairs and Satya began to unpack. As she unpacked the books, she flipped lovingly through the sketchbooks she'd filled in Australia. The first page was of Hanzo and Genji, wearing similar expressions of intent focus, playing a game of chess as Angela watched curiously. The second was of Mei drawing a diagram of a plant as seven students looked on. Satya smiled, remembering the day Mei had invited her to give a lesson in sketching. She flipped the page. Jesse was sleeping in a chair, hat tipped over face as Olivia carefully filled the hat's brim with flour. The white powder had gone everywhere when Olivia woke the American by blowing into his ear. The next showed Mako reading on his steadily rotting porch, a stray sheep at his feet. Flipping over several others, Satya came to her favorite.  
Jamison laid with his head resting on her lap which, besides her skirt and feet, was the only part of her visible in the drawing. He held his own worn copy of Gulliver's Travels and read with a lightly furrowed brow, unaware that he was being drawn. They had been reading in the barn again, not long after they'd finished Great Expectations in the shearing board. She wouldn't see him for a while. Shaking her head, Satya put the book on the shelf as there was a knock at the door.  
"Dinner is ready, Miss Vaswani." Reported Hana. Satya noticed her lip curl again, as if the words she'd said were awkward. Shrugging it off, Satya followed Hana to the dining room where she ate dinner with her father.

Satya shivered as she brushed out her hair. The room was cold and her night gown did little to keep her warm. A light danced within a kerosene lamp, the only thing keeping the room from total darkness. Just as she was about to climb into bed, she heard Hana's knock at the door once again.

"Would you like help with your hair, Miss Vaswani?" Satya frowned in the mirror, confused. Hana held up a handful of fabric strips, like the ones Madame Lacroix had used to curl her hair for the Christmas party. Right, that style was fashionable here.

"If you don't mind, I'm afraid I've forgotten how. And, please, call me Satya." Hana nodded and suddenly, Satya remembered where she had seen that curled lip expression before. It was the same face Jamison always made when he'd been made to sit quietly for too long and he'd grown impatient but knew better than to speak.

"You're not used to staying silent, are you." She smiled, confirming her observation as Hana looked up from the hair she'd been wrapping, looking as if she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. Satya laughed lightly. Jamison often looked the same if someone commented on his expression.

"You can talk, you know. If we're to be friends, as Monsieur Maximilian suggests, I would like to get to know you." Hana smiled.

"That's a good thing then. I've never worked as a maid before." Satya looked up in surprise.

"Really? I wouldn't have known. Dinner was delicious. Though, my father and I both agreed you should eat with us next time. We've never had a maid before and it feels strange to know someone living in the house is eating separately from us." Hana grinned, tying off a second hair wrapped rag. 

"Thanks! I love cooking for people. I can eat with you tomorrow if you're sure. But you probably want to let me eat in the kitchen if you have company. I wouldn't want to give you a bad name." Satya opened her mouth to protest but thought about how Madame Lacroix would react if she were invited to eat with a maid at the table. Satya would rather eat in the kitchen with Hana than endure that kind of passive judgement for the dinner hour.

"Are you any good at chess, Satya? Or cards?" Satya thought over games she'd played in the past. On a good day she could beat her father. She'd played Hanzo once and lost almost immediately. Her face shifted to a light scowl. No one had ever beaten Hanzo at chess. Not even her father. Satya was certain he'd been cheating somehow.

"I'm not bad at either. Do you play?" Hana shook her head vigorously. 

"Yes! I have a friend in town who occasionally plays with me. You should meet her sometime." Satya tilted her head, intrigued As Hana tied off the last rag.

"Perhaps you will introduce us." Hana set the brush down and gave Satya's hair one last tug before walking to the door.

"I look forward to talking to you tomorrow, but you should go to sleep. No one sleeps well on ships, so I know you're tired." Satya nodded as she stood, blew out the lamp, and tucked herself under the quilt, relaxing as she began to warm up. As Hana's footsteps sounded down the hallway, Satya felt sleep tugging at her mind, though not before thinking of Jamison's calls to his sheep, which had lulled her to sleep so many nights before. 

 

Mr. Reyes,  
I am interested to hear this business deal you have laid out, it sounds promising. My husband, daughter, an associate, and I will arrive in London two weeks from the day you receive this telegram. It is always a pleasure doing business with you, we look forward to seeing you then.  
Katya Arkadyevna Volskaya, CEO and co-founder of Volskaya Industries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts or tips? I'm struggling a bit with D.Va's character. Goodnight folks, I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. I hope all of you lovely readers have an equally lovely day (or evening).


	20. Anna Karenina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This will be the last chapter until exams are over, so I hope you like it! I recently reread chapter one and… thank you for continuing to read this. This is my first ever fanfic and Im glad people like the plot even if the writing is cringy. I think I’ve really grown as a writer since the start of this project and I really want to thank you for your encouragement and constructive criticism, it really helps. I have a video about ballet classes during the victorian era, just let me know if you want me to include it in the notes or post it somewhere. As always, cookies for catching literary references, just a note, the scene at Noctourne is a big one. Enjoy!

Maman,  
I am sorry I haven’t written for so long, but I have good news. I’m coming home within the week. I’m certain you’ve hear of what became of my marriage to Gerard by now. I know you liked him and were pleased with the match, I was too and for a period of time, I loved him. Sometimes I wonder if I don’t love him now. But I cannot stay with a man who would force me into another’s service rather than dealing with debt the way he should. If it is agreeable to you and papa, I will stay at home for a period of time before attempting to reconnect with Gerard. I thank you for sending me all the books you have. Recently, I finished Anna Karenina. I can see why you sent it to me. Perhaps I will be able to forgive Gerard as Dolly forgave Stiva.  
\- Amelie 

Satya had had a pleasant day so far. She’d woken, washed her face and dressed, pinned her hair, and had a lovely breakfast with Hana. Her father had already departed to meet Mr. Korpal at the new office. A chess set had been set up in the sitting room and the two girls had played two games and were in the middle of their third. Hana was beginning to prove as challenging an opponent as Hanzo. Perhaps Hassan would stand a chance at beating her. Satya had learned many things about the younger girl that morning. Satya would never had imagined her to be so ambitious or full of personality as she was upon their first meeting. She was fond of games or any sort of competition and had expressed a love for foods flavored with cheese or citrus, though both items tended to be pricey. From what Hana had told her of the city, Hana’s favorite place was a little workshop and antique store a few blocks over.

“My friend lives there. Her father fixes broken equipment and personal items and her mother sells and fixes old miscellaneous things people no linger want.” Hana moved her knight to capture Satya’s bishop. “She’s refinished some of the most beautiful china I’ve ever seen. The expensive stuff, you’d never even know it’d been chipped or cracked!” Satya gave an impressed hum as she tried to think of a way out of the corner Hana was slowly forcing her into. At this rate, she would be in check mate within three moves. Hana continued enthusiastically. 

“And Mr. Lindholm was a major engineer working on the iron clad ships used in the war in America! How the ship doesn’t sink is beyond me. Brigitte has tried to explain it, but I still don’t get it. It has too much to do with numbers. Still interesting though.” Hana captured another one of Satya’s pieces and Satya gave up on trying to win.

“That does sound interesting. Do you think she would mind explaining it to me?” Wordlessly, they began to reset the board after Hana cornered Satya’s king.

“Not at all! She would love that.” There was a knock at the door as Hana made her first move, boldly placing her knight where it would have greater control over the center of the board. Maybe she just needed to stop letting Hana move first. Straightening her apron, Hana stood, answered the door, and asked the visitor’s name before opening the door to allow them inside. 

Madame Lacroix waltzed in, casually pushing her coat and bonnet into Hana’s arms before catching sight of Satya in the sitting room. Satya had to keep herself from chuckling at Hana’s face of unrestrained irritation peering over the Frenchwoman’s shoulder. She could already hear the rant over the use of humans as coat racks. Madame Lacroix gave Satya a cursory inspection before a satisfied look settled over her features and Hana stepped up next to the governess, coat folded over her arm. 

“Amelie Lacroix, Miss Vaswani?” Satya was impressed with Hana’s ability to swap attitudes so quickly. Then the awkwardness of a guest being announced hit and Satya tried not to fidget under the feeling. 

“Thank you, Hana. Would you mind making a pot of tea?” Hopefully the hospitality would please her teacher. Hana nodded and started towards the kitchen, stopping once to make a display of putting Madame Lacroix’s coat on the coat rack. Madame Lacroix did not appear to notice as she sat down into the chair Hana had previously been occupying and with a frown, poked the single chess piece back into place. 

“It seems that you’ve settled in just fine.” The pleased look returned to the governess’ face as she brushed one of the rag curls from Satya’s shoulder before scanning the room. “I must say, this house suits you well. I have no doubt that, in time, an invitation to tea here will be coveted among London ladies of your circle.” Satya smiled, though she didn’t find the thought of tea with near strangers all that wonderful.

“You taught me well. I should hope so.” This comment only seemed to please the governess more, though as required by social customs, she was quick to turn down the compliment.

“The process of learning is as dependent on the student as it is the teacher. Never mind that though. That is not the matter that concerns my visit.” At that moment, Hana walked in carrying a tray containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, and bread and hard cheese left over from breakfast that morning. Satya thanked her as she set down the tray and returned to the other room. Madame Lacroix continued to speak as Satya poured the tea.

“I thought that you could do with a quick review and a tour of the city before the welcome party. I’d also like to talk to you about the people you will meet at the party. It never hurts to be prepared.” Satya handed her the teacup. “Thank you.” Satya nodded.

“I think that would be perfect. Thank you for thinking of it.” Madame Lacroix gave a hum of agreement as she set her cup down. “It is a good idea, but I’m afraid I can’t take credit for it. Emily, Mr. Reyes’ niece thought of it. She wanted to come herself, but she’s … entertaining company.” Satya raised an eyebrow at her teacher's hesitation. Madame Lacroix acknowledged her confusion.

“I’ll get to it later.” The governess drained her cup. “Come now, ask the maid to get our coats and we’ll be off. You may want a hat or bonnet. We can talk as you see the city.” The governess paused. “Leave a note for your father in case he returns home for lunch before we return.” Having heard the governess, Hana appeared with Madame Lacroix and Satya’s coats, wearing her own. The governess fixed the younger girl with a stern look.

“Should you not stay here if Mr. Vaswani is to return home for lunch?” Hana respectfully lowered her gaze, but her habit of biting her lip when irritated told Satya exactly what she thought.

“There is a meal of rice with prawns and smoked cod, enough for four if there are guests, on the table. I left Mr. Vaswani a note of your absence and placed it with the dish as well.” Madame Lacroix looked surprised at the revelation. Shaking her head, she took her coat and started for the door.

“How nice of Mr. Reyes to hire a literate maid. Many of the laboring class are not so fortunate.” Hana nodded and opened the door, allowing the women to step out into the cold. Carriages, wagons, and pedestrians strolled down the roads with purpose. Satya watched them and wondered where they were off to as she linked arms with Madame Lacroix and joined those walking in the streets, Hana following closely behind. 

“So, the dinner party. From what I’ve been told, it’s a rather small event. No more than twenty people gathered for a nice dinner followed by a little music, maybe some dancing, and cigars for the men and tea for the ladies.” Satya nodded and wondered how big the large gatherings were if a small one was twenty people. Madame Lacroix continued her spiel.

“Nocturne is kept well warmed, so wear something you won’t be to hot in. Perhaps that maroon evening gown with the jacket we made in November. You remember it, yes?” Satya nodded.

“Perfect. Now, people you need to know. I suppose we should start with Mr. Reyes and his family. You’ve met Olivia, his oldest niece, ad I’ve mentioned Emily. Emily is his other niece, the daughter of his wife’s late brother. I was her teacher too, you know. I think you’ll like his wife, Moira. She likes nothing better than a fresh, intelligent mind. Now, onto acquaintances. You’ve met Monsieur Maximilian, Mr. Reyes’ financial manager from Monaco, a gentleman if I’ve ever known one.” Satya could hear piano music drifting from further up the street, growing closer as the walked. Madame Lacroix noticed her distracted attention before giving a rare, warm, smile.

“Ah, I remember this place. Come, you’ll like this.”The governess quickened their pace before stopping at a wide shop window. The shop was a small room with an open floor and two long bars pulled out to the center. At one of the bars stood four girls, at the other, two boys. A teacher leaned against a piano in the corner, arms folded, watching carefully as the students extended a leg, foot pointed, and brought the heel back to rejoin the other.

“I loved watching the classes during the time I taught Olivia. I used to be a ballet student when I was a girl, you know. It’s nice to watch it even though I have not the time to teach the art or dance myself.” Satya nodded, not knowing what to say. She’d never seen the governess look so nostalgic. She turned her gaze to Hana. The younger girl was chewing on her lip again. Curious to know the reason, Satya followed Hana’s gaze and found her looking, not at the dancers, but at the pianist.

The pianist was a man of short build with dark skin and dreadlocks. He wore a heavily patched green frock coat and stared intently at the sheet music on the piano, paying no attention to onlookers. Reminding herself to ask Hana about the pianist later, Satya followed Madame Lacroix as she was pulled along again. Before their walk ended, Satya knew the names of most of the dinner party guests, who they were in terms of importance to her, and what they enjoyed speaking of, if conversation should be made, which it likely would because she was new and people would no doubt be curious. She also knew the location of the closest seamstress’ shop, the cobbler, the market, the library, her father’s office, as well as the ballet studio they’d passed. 

Now, they were back at the Vaswani’s town house. Stepping into the front hall, Satya saw her father in the sitting room playing chess with a younger blond man, maybe two years older than Satya. Hearing the door open, Hassan’s attention was drawn from the game. 

“Oh good, you’ve returned.” Hassan stood and grabbed his daughter’s hand, gently guiding her by the shoulder to the table where the paused game of chess lay.

“Satya, this is my partner in business, Mr. Sanjay Korpal. Mr. Korpal, this is my daughter.” The young man stood and bowed. Satya gave the expected curtsy.

“It’s nice to put a face to the name.” Said Mr. Korpal. “Though I wasn’t expecting it to be so pretty.” Satya blinked before responding with an awkward, but hopefully polite smile. 

“You flatter me, Mr. Korpal.” She said shortly. She didn’t want his flattery, but couldn’t think of a polite way to tell him so. Satya could have wrapped her father in the tightest embrace possible when he cleared his throat, an uncertain look on his face, and turned to Madame Lacroix, who was practically beaming.

“I’m glad I was able to introduce you two. Amelie, would you like to join us for lunch? Im not certain what Hana prepared, but it smells exceptionally wonderful.” Madame Lacroix shook her head.

“I’m afraid I have to decline. I am returning to France tomorrow and I must be getting back to Nocturne so I may finish packing. I should be able to fetch a cab.” Sanjay stood.

“Allow me to escort you. There is business I must discuss with Mr. Reyes regarding the Russians visiting next month.” Madame Lacroix nodded.

“Thank you, Mr. Korpal, that’s very generous.” She walked over to Satya and Hassan. “I don’t think I shall see you again.” She placed a hand on Satya’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of the lady you’ve become. Perhaps I will write to you after I arrive home.” She started to leave, but turned just before exiting the door Sanjay held open.

“Oh, don’t forget to telegram Angela. You promised you would and she’ll be livid if you don’t.” And with that, she left the Vaswani’s home, Sanjay tipping his hat as he followed.

“It was a pleasant finally meeting you, Hassan, Miss Satya.” And the door closed.

…....

Emily shivered as she walked down the hall to the rooms on the far east wing of the manner. She never knew why her aunt had chosen the coldest wing of the manor for her chambers and study, but now, clad in her night shift and dressing gown, she was wishing her aunt weren’t so warm natured. She knocked on the door to the study and a tired voice called for her to enter. There sat Aunt Moira, her chair like a burnished throne, still dressed in her day clothes. Her attention seemed to have been drawn from a book on the candle lit window sill.

“Emily? Is that you, darling?” Emily closed the door behind her.

“Yes Aunt Moira. Lena reminded me we forgot to wish you good night after dinner.” The ginger haired woman nodded, turning her head back towards the window. Emily couldn’t help but notice her bruised hand tremble on the window sill. Emily had been told that the bruises were from an injury obtained falling down the stairs, but Emily was almost certain that wasn’t what happened.

“Is something the matter, Aunt Moira?” Her aunt gave a smile that could have been mistaken for a grimace by someone who didn’t know her better. 

“My nerves are bad. Stay with me?” Emily nodded, concerned, and sat down in the room’s other chair. Her Aunt had never been like this.

“Tell me something interesting, my dear.” Moira folded her hands in her lap. “Something that will lighten the air.” Emily thought for a moment.

“Jesse spilled an entire pot of tea on Madame Lacroix this afternoon.” Moira smirked at that news.

“He is a proper fool, isn’t he.” She looked out the window again. Emily sighed.

“What ails you? What are you thinking? I never know what you are thinking.” She pleaded, wondering how to relieve her aunt of whatever burden she carried. This time, Moira did grimace.

“I feel something terrible is about to begin.”

…… 

Amelie Lacroix walked arm in arm with Maximilian, who was carrying her suitcase, ever the gentleman. She was catching a train that would take her to a port where she would be ferried to France. Home at last, after gif fifteen years.

“So you’ve made arrangements for your arrival?” Asked Maximilian, adjusting his hold on the suitcase.

“Yes, I have sent word that I will be staying with my parents until I am back on my feet.” She smiled. Perhaps I’ll teach ballet or find other work as a governess until I have enough money to support myself. I’ll telegram you if I need help managing it.” Maximilian smiled fondly at that.

“It would be my pleasure.” He checked his pocket watch. “And what of your husband.” His smile turned to a look resembling embarrassment. “ I do hope you’ve forgiven me for being the bearer of bad news all those years ago. Amelie laughed.

“Of course I have, you were never responsible for that. Gerard…” she hesitated. “Perhaps I will forgive him one day and we can be happy again. I’m uncertain.” Maximilian set her suitcase down as they approached the platform’s edge.

“Im sure whatever you do will be the right thing.” He checked his watch again and looked down the tracks. This was puzzling. The train wasn’t late yet. It should be arriving any minute now. And surely a minute or so could be spared. Clicking his watch shut, he put it back in his pocket.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather stay here in London with us? We’ve grown terribly fond of you.” Amelie shook her head sadly.

“And I you. But I belong in France. Perhaps our paths will cross again, my friend.” Maximilian gave a disappointed smile.

“Perhaps. Oh well then. You will be missed.” He tipped his hat as if to say goodbye, but backed into another passenger, tripped over the suitcase, and careened into Amelie. Losing her balance, she fell off the platform.

“Good gracious, Amelie, I’m sorry! Are you alright?” Exclaimed Maximilian, eyes wide but tone even. Amelie stood, dusting her skirt and rubbing her shoulder in an attempt to soothe the sting.

“It’s alright, Maximilian, I’m fine.” She didn’t see the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope all you lovely people have an equally lovely day!


	21. Chapter 21

The platform erupted into chaos. Passengers exiting the train worriedly glanced around the crowd, trying to locate the source of the commotion. All passengers except for one. A mountain of a man, finely dressed in a black waistcoat with matching slacks covered by a pristine white frockcoat approached a nonchalant Maximilian. 

“I assume it has been done then.” He remarked. Maximillian nodded.

“As you asked, Mr. Ogundimu. She declined my offer to stay.” Akande shot his auditor a look.

“You knew she would never be able to return home, Maximillian. She may have never been directly involved, but she has seen too much of our work.” Maximillian nodded his assent once again.

“Agreed, Mr. Ogundimu. Still, she was a woman of class and refinement. Such a grotesque end did not suit her.” Akande gave Maximilian a good-natured slap on the back that shook the elderly man before guiding him from the platform.

“I can agree with you on that. Perhaps we can give her a funeral worthy of her status.” Maximillian smiled.

“I can think of nothing more fitting.”

………..

Angela,  
You will be pleased to know that my father and I arrived in London safely. However, it is with great sadness and regret that I inform you Madame Lacroix passed away yesterday morning. She fell from the platform at the train station and was run over. The funeral is tomorrow. I know she was not the warmest person, but I know, once she grew used to you, that she thought of you and the others as respectable peers. Except for Jamison, perhaps, but even she admitted he could have nice manners when he wished. Please keep her in your thoughts. Tell Jamison I will write to him after the funeral.  
Satya Vaswani  
………..

Jack glared at the newspaper from where he sat across the table from Ana. The older woman sipped her tea as she observed the fuming American.

“You won’t burn holes in that paper with your eyes. If you hate it that much, there’s a perfectly good fireplace next to you.” Jack looked up at his friend.

“Amelie Lacroix is dead.” Ana’s eyes widened.

“Really? How?” Jack held up the front page.

“She fell onto the tracks at the station and was hit by an incoming train. But that’s not what concerns me.” He pointed to two figures in the picture.

“This is Akande Ogundimu, one of the most powerful financers in Europe, Northern Africa, and the Middle East.” Ana nodded.

“I know. Gabriel’s financial manager has sent me countless offers for my cotton plantations at Mr. Akande’s behest.” 

“What I’m saying is the Frenchwoman’s death was no accident.” Ana was puzzled.

“Why would they murder the poor woman?” she asked. Jack turned to her with a weary face.

“I don’t know.” The two were silent for a moment. Then, Jack abruptly stood and retrieved something from behind his desk.

“There’s a scientist visiting Gabriel’s manor from Gibraltar. A little-known fact among the public is that Gabriel’s wife dabbles in microbiology and the theories about biological inheritance put forth by that monk. I don’t know what they’re doing, but I don’t like how I feel about it. Will you try to speak with the visiting scientist at the Vaswani’s welcome dinner?” Ana nodded.

“Of course, I will. The last thing we need, if this financer is as dangerous as you say, is for Gabriel to get his hands on a new weapon.” Jack nodded.

“Good. Be careful, Ana.”  
………..

Dr. Winston Harold blinked, surprised as he stared through the microscope. If Ms. O’Deorain was correct, this was revolutionary. He leaned back and stared at the red haired woman, eagerly awaiting feedback. 

“Ms. O’Deorain,” he began. “If your theory is correct, you’ve just opened the gate to curing most of the world’s disease.” A pleased look came over the Irish woman’s face.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted another’s opinion before I started testing it.” Dr. Winston furrowed his bushy black brows. 

“How do you plan to test it? We can’t get carried away. This theory of disease, while it has the potential to revolutionize the world of medicine, can also be very dangerous. After all, we are dealing with a disease. That sample under your microscope would be deadly in the wrong hands. You’ve simultaneously modernized medicine and warfare.” Moira considered this.  
“I’d like to start with small rodents. If those trials are successful, I have an investor to back trials with larger animals. If those go well, human trials would be the most efficient step to take next.” Winston nodded. 

“How many trials for each are you planning?”

“Fifteen for each should be efficient to avoid any significant risk.” Winston shot her a disbelieving look.

“Certainly, you must be joking. This is a disease we’re dealing with, Moira. You should run those trials as many times as possible. Your data will be more accurate and there will be far less risk.” Moira paused.

“That could take years, Dr. Winston. This could fix a problem happening right now. Should we not come to a conclusion as quickly as possible?” Winston couldn’t believe what he’d just been told. 

“Your theory isn’t helpful if it kills people, Moira.” Moira considered the scientist’s words for a moment. 

“Do not worry, Dr.Winston I will take all necessary precaution when running the trials. I think we have finished in the laboratory. Would you like to take tea with my niece and me before you leave?” Winston shook his head in defeat, not knowing if he trusted Moira to run her trials with the necessary caution. 

“I am fine. I’ll show myself out. I’ll see you at the dinner party next week. Good day, Ms. O’Deorain.” 

……..  
Satya limply flipped the page of her book, listening to Hana hum as she went about whatever she was doing in the other room. It had been a week since her former teacher’s funeral. Satya was still wearing black mourning clothes and, whenever she left the house, a black veil. Just as expected of women in mourning, thought Satya bitterly, remembering the lesson. Hana poked her head into the living room.

“I’m going to the market and you’re coming with me. Get your coat. If you want the veil, get that to, but it’s been a week. No one expects you to wear it anymore.” Satya opened her mouth to protest, but Hana stopped her.

“No buts. You’ve been moping around the house for too long. She would be bugging you to get out and visit your father at work or go to a shop. You’re going to the market with me, like it or not.” Sighing, Satya rose from her chair and collected her coat from the rack, looking at the veil for a moment before deciding to leave it. Hana was right, no one would expect her to wear it.

“Ready to go?” asked Hana. Satya nodded, and the two women exited the house. As they walked to the market, Satya didn’t miss Hana’s disappointed look when she saw the closed sign on the ballet studio. Satya gave the younger girl an amused smile.

“Your pianist is missing today.” She commented. Hana gave her a slightly irritated glare, her face turning red.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffed. 

“Of course you don’t.” replied Satya. “It’s not as if you don’t look for him every time we pass the studio.” Hana replied with another halfhearted glare.

“He looks interesting. That’s all.” Satya smiled at the reply.

“Perhaps you should take up ballet. Then you wouldn’t be lingering at the window.” Hana gave her a look of disgust.

“Ugh, no. I’m not doing that to my feet.” They walked a bit further in silence. 

“Do you know his name?” Asked Satya. Hana shook her head. 

“No. I’ve never been around when he’s not working.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” They walked the rest of the way to the market in silence. Upon entering the market, Satya immediately felt overdressed. Most of the women in the market wore no bustle or crinoline and were wearing work dresses with thick aprons and worn coats. Trying to ignore any curious glances, Satya looked around, only to find she had lost track of Hana. Scanning the crowd, she searched for the girl, but couldn’t’ find her. She calmly walked through three rows of stalls, occasionally looking at or purchasing a nice looking bunch of vegetables or fruit so as not to appear to be lurking but saw no sign of her. Just as she was about to start calling for Hana, she heard a familiar yelp of surprise come from two stands over. Rushing over to the source of the sound, she found Hana scrambling to pick up the items she’d bought with….oh. Satya smiled.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t see you. Let me help you with that. I’m so sorry.” Apologized a familiar pianist wearing a patched green coat. Hana froze as the man began to help her put her produce back in its basket. Shaking her head, Satya stepped forward and gently pulled Hana to her feet as the pianist handed Hana the basket. The pianist took note of Satya’s clothing and scratched the back of his neck, clearly thinking he had upset someone important. Satya smiled. Jamison did the same thing when he was embarrassed.

“Thank you, Mister…?” Satya trailed off, ignoring Hana’s look of protest. The man seemed to calm down when realized Satya wasn’t angry.

“Santos…most people just call me Lucio.” Satya nodded politely.

“Thank you, Mr. Lucio. I know Hana appreciates it.” Satya subtly nudged her friend.

“Yes, thank you.” Said Hana, giving Satya a hesitant glance before staring at her shoes. The man laughed awkwardly.

“It’s fine really, I ran into her in the first place, that’s the least I could do.” He looked a little closer at Hana.

“Hey, I know you.” Hana looked up, panic beginning to set in.

“You do?” She asked nervously. The man nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, you stop by the ballet studio window and watch the dancers on Wednesdays! I’m the pianist for the studio, it’s nice to meet you. You said your name was Hana?” Hana nodded, nervousness fading. 

“Yeah, I go to the market on Wednesdays. I like watching on my way back to the house.” Lucio lit up at that.

“That’s great! You should sit in on a lesson sometime, Monsieur Tournier loves showing off his students.” Hana smiled and nodded.

“I might do that. Thanks for the offer.” Lucio grinned.

“Great! Lessons start at one o’clock, Monday through Friday. I’ll tell Monsieur he might have an audience next week, see you then!” and with that, the pianist worked his way through the crowd. Satya looked at Hana who was smiling. Sensing Satya’s gaze, Hana looked up at Satya, expression turning irate.

“Yeah, I get it. You were right.” Feeling pleased with herself and in better spirits than when she left the house, Satya began the walk home with Hana.

“So,” began Satya. “How about a day off on Monday?” Hana nodded.

“That would be lovely.” The younger girl’s eyes widened as though she’d remembered something.

“We have to hurry! I forgot to press the skirt that went with the blouse you’re wearing tonight!” Satya squinted as Hana grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

“Tonight?” She asked, wondering how she had forgotten anything. Hana shot her an incredulous look.

“The party at Nocturne! How on earth could you forget?” She chastised hastily. Satya’s eyebrows shot up. She had forgotten. How could she forget something she’d been dreading for so long?  
When they arrived at the house, Hana quickly shoved Satya into the washroom with a basin of hot water, a towel, a cake of soap, and a bottle of rosewater. Once washed and clad in a clean linen dressing gown, Satya exited to her room where Hana waited with the maroon blouse and skirt, still warm from the iron. Quickly, Satya dressed and looked at the clock. Her father should be home with a cab in about ten minutes. She felt Hana shove a lace collar into her hands which she quickly turned back to her dressing table to pin onto the neckline of her dress. Running down the stairs, she pulled on and buttoned the darker overcoat up to her neck, gave her hair one final glance in the hall mirror, and hurried into the sitting room just as Hassan entered through the front door.  
He paused in the entryway, quickly looking over her to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything and smiled.

“You look lovely, my dear.” He extended his arm. “Shall we go? Mr. Korpal is waiting for us in the cab.” Satya accepted the offered arm and nodded, trying to sort out how she felt about Mr. Korpal’s company. She felt he was too forward when they’d last spoken. She shook her head, chastising herself. First impressions are often wrong, Mr. Korpal is probably a very polite and dignified man. With that in mind, she slipped into the back seat of the cab, her father following.

“Greetings, Miss Vaswani.” Greeted the blond man from the opposite seat. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

“A lovely evening indeed. I was out for a walk with Hana earlier and it was most enjoyable.” Returned Satya as she straightened her skirts. The cab began to move.

“That’s wonderful, my dear.” Commented Hassan. “You’ve been hiding in the house for far too long, I’m sure the fresh air did you well.” Satya nodded.

“It was a nice change.” She agreed. “How was work at the office?” She asked, looking between both men. Mr. Korpal lit up. 

“Business has been wonderful! A few weeks in and orders are already piling up! So far, we’ve been working on two mills and a country house.” Satya nodded, wanting to know more about the projects themselves, but Madame Lacroix’s warning from early on in their stay in Australia about becoming too involved in her father’s work pulled at the back of her mind.

“That’s interesting.” She commented. Hassan turned towards her, an excited grin on his face.

“You would love the country house project, Satya. The commissioners have asked that the new electric lights from America be installed. There’re all sorts of issues we’ve run across in wiring the house and it’s a great deal of fun figuring out how to work around them.” Satya raised her eyebrows. 

“That certainly is interesting. You’ll have to show me what you’ve worked out so far next time I visit the office.” Hassan nodded eagerly, but it was Mr. Korpal who answered. 

“It would be a pleasure, Miss Vaswani.” His voice was light, but something about his expression brought Satya back to the uncomfortable feeling she’d had when she’d first met Sanjay. What was it about that face that made her so uncomfortable?  
……………  
Jamison sighed and flopped back into the haystack. Satya had barely been gone four months, but it felt like longer. He picked up the book she’d given him and turned to the back few pages. To be honest, the hated the book. He loved the story, but he hated the book. Every time he looked at it, he felt as if it was mocking him. Satya had promised to come back, but when? Four months? A year? Four years? Forty? He tossed the book, wincing when he heard a pained bleat. He should probably go get it before whoever he’d hit enacted their revenge by eating the front cover. After all, he’d promised to return it to her. She’d be angry if the cover was missing.  
After retrieving the book, he stepped out of the barn and looked down the street. Her house stood proudly next door, making it look like a castle compared to the rotting stack of boards he called home. No matter. In a few months it would all be torn down and rebuilt. The sheep would be penned in the field and he and Mako would be crammed into the loft of the new schoolhouse with Genji, Angela, and Miss Zhou.  
He made his way into the house and trekked up the stairs to his room, waving in response to Mako’s grunted greeting. Flopping onto the wool stuffed mattress, he picked up the Christmas photo, even though he’d memorized the image by now. Satya’s face held a soft smile, as it usually did around him. He had always prided himself on being able to make her smile when she was upset, stressed or angry. Her face was suited better for smiles than scowls, though he thought it was pretty either way.  
Huffing at his crooked grin, he set the photo back on the table. God, he missed her.  
……….

Dear Jamison,  
How wonderful it is to be able to write to you again! I’ve missed you terribly. You must tell me what has happened in my absence. How have you been? How is Mako? Are Genji, Angela, Hanzo, and Miss Zhou well? Much has happened in London. I’ve met many people since arriving in London. A young girl named Hana was hired to work in our house, but she’s become as good a friend as I could ask for. She could definitely give Hanzo a run for his money in chess though. I’ve also met my father’s partner in business, Mr. Korpal. I’ve only met him once, though. I don’t know why, but something about him makes me uncomfortable. I’m sure it’s nothing. It was to be expected that I would meet some odd people, and perhaps he isn’t odd. First impressions are often wrong. I’m sure Angela has told you what happened to Madame Lacroix. I don’t wish to say any more of it as of now. I hope you have been well. I will write again soon.  
With Love, Satya


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait guys, I got a bit distracted with another project. This chapter is a little longer than what I usually post, so I hope that makes up for the wait a little bit. I'm sorry once again, I hope you enjoy!

_Satya,_

_I’m so sorry about the Madame. She didn’t like me much, but I know you looked up to her. I wish I could be there to help you. I always wish I was in London with you. I miss you so much you know? Mako and I just moved into the loft of the school house so our pile of scrap could be rebuilt. Genji, Angel face, and Ms. Mei are up here too, not a lick of privacy I tell you. Hanzo went back to Japan a few weeks ago, speak of the devil. This friend of yours can’t be real. Or she cheats. No one can beat Hanzo at chess. Don’t talk to that bloke your father works with if he makes you uncomfortable. Nothing good will come out of that. ~~I Love you.~~ Come back soon._

  * _Jamison_



……..

 

Satya glanced out the window. Buildings were becoming more and more sparse as they left the city.

 

“We’ll be approaching Nocturne in a few minutes. You’ll know it when you see it, the Italian and Gothic influence on the exterior is very distinctive.” Commented Sanjay, leaning forward to get a better look out the window. Satya nodded her thanks and began to look for the Romanesque features common to both the Gothic architecture of the late middle ages and Italy.

Mr. Korpal wasn’t wrong. Minutes later, a large, stately manor came into view over the hill. Satya would almost call the exceedingly ornate building a pompous show of opulence, but such a remark would be rude, so she kept it to herself. As the cab pulled into the drive, a butler met the coach. Hassan exited and moved to help his daughter down, but Mr. Korpal extended his hand first.

“Allow me.” He offered simply. Hesitantly, she took the offered hand and stepped down from the cab. She couldn’t help thinking of the pleased “What a nice young man.” Madame Lacroix would have given at the display. She smiled to herself. Her teacher would have been proud at how well she was adjusting to London. The butler led them into the manor and offered them a seat in the foyer.

“A moment, please. I will inform my employer of your arrival.” The butler exited through a heavy set of dark wood doors. Immediately Satya began to observe the room. The wallpaper was a dark, tangled pattern of leaf bare vines against a violet backdrop, giving the room a haunting aura that pricked at Satya’s spine. The feeling was amplified by a large portrait of four people, two red haired women, and a man and young woman with dark hair and tanned skin. None of them were smiling. She recognized Olivia’s uncharacteristically solemn face, but none of the others.

“Ah, Mr. Vaswani! How wonderful it is to finally meet you in person.” The dark-haired man from the portrait appeared at the heavy set of doors, the older of the two red haired women stiffly at his arm. Both looked as though they were pushing away from the other, despite their pleasant smiles. Hassan returned the greeting warmly.

“You must be Mr. Reyes. Satya and I are very grateful for all you’ve done for us.” Mr. Reyes waved his hand dismissively.

“A man with talent such as yours deserves to be able to share his work with those who will appreciate it. And I couldn’t possibly expect you to leave your family behind.” At this, he turned his attention to Satya.

“Especially such a lovely lady as your daughter. Your father spoke very highly of you in his letters, as did your late teacher, may she rest in peace.” Satya’s cordial smile fell.

“I’m happy to hear I pleased her. We were devastated at the news.” Mr. Reyes returned the comment with a sympathetic look.

“As were we. She taught both Olivia and Emily and was beloved by our family.” The businessman collected himself and the pleasant smile returned.

“Well, let’s not dwell on such dreary conversation, Amelie would be disappointed if we spent the whole night in such a melancholy state. Please, come in. I’m sure we all have things to discuss.” He turned to the red haired woman by his side, who Satya assumed to be his wife.

“Moira, I know the girls stole Ana away to tea in the drawing room. You and Miss Vaswani should go join them. Mr. Vaswani, Mr. Korpal and I will to the office to discuss future business, perhaps smoke a cigar. The woman gave a wry smile.

“Of course, Gabriel.” She turned and beckoned to Satya.

“Come, my dear. I look forward to getting to know you.” With a quick curtsey, Satya excused herself and followed Moira.

As they moved through the house, Satya couldn’t help but turn her head in wonder. The manor was beautiful despite its borderline tawdry exterior. Tapestries hung on the wall and stone floors transformed into colorful carpets. The high ceilings were all painted or carved, and Satya knew she could spend days admiring the architecture if allowed. When they arrived in the drawing room, a maid took Satya’s coat and she was immediately greeted by a chipper wave from a brunette wearing a faded orange skirt and simple brown blouse.

“Hello, love! I’m Lena! It’s so nice to meet you!” Satya nodded with a polite smile, taking a seat between Olivia and the ginger haired girl from the portrait. After giving a quiet order to the maid, Moira sat across from the girls.

“Welcome to Nocturne, Miss Vaswani. I’m Moira, this is my niece, Emily,” she gestured to the red-haired girl. “Miss Oxten has already introduced herself,” she said this with an air of irritation, for which Satya knew the reason. Moira was the lady of the house, therefore expected to introduce herself, but Lena would have been expected to wait to be introduced by her hostess. “Ms. Amari” Moira continued, placing her hand on the shoulder of a tanned woman in a blue dress. “And of course, you’re already familiar with Olivia.” The Irishwoman finished. Satya nodded, mentally taking note of the new names and faces.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Satya answered, giving a polite smile and fighting the urge to scoot closer to Olivia. She’d never liked meeting new people. Emily made quiet squeal of excitement.

“We’ve heard so much about you. I think we were all a bit jealous that Olivia’s had you to herself for six months.” Olivia made a halfhearted noise of protest.

“Aw, don’t be that way. I had to get an edge somehow. No one gives me a second thought once they see your pretty little face.” She tapped her younger cousin on the nose. Emily smiled.

“I bet they’d like me better if I had half your wit.” Lena scooted closer to Emily and gave her a one armed hug that Satya was sure Madame Lacroix would openly balk at.

“That’s alright, you’ve got plenty of wit. No one would have you any other way.” Moira nodded and thanked the maid as a tea tray was brought in.

“Indeed. You’re a very bright girl, Emily. Anymore wit and you’d be gossiping like Olivia.” Olivia put a hand to her chest in mock offense.

“If people don’t want me to talk about then, they shouldn’t do stupid things. I’m just spreading the humor.”

“Spreading the humor, you say. I believe you’re the only one who finds it humorous.” Answered Moira as she poured a cup of tea and passed it to Ana.

“Milk or sugar?”

“Milk, please. Thank you.” Moira continued to pass the tea around.

“So, Miss Vaswani. We’ve heard Olivia’s opinion of Australia, what did you think of it?” Satya thought of her time in the colony. What could she say that didn’t explicitly imply she kept company with convicts?

“It’s much different than London. The people were very welcoming though. We had very lovely neighbors.” Satya nodded her thanks as she accepted her own cup of tea.

“Did you meet any convicts?” the question came from Lena who seemed more serious than her enthusiastic introduction.

“I did. Two lived next door.” Olivia hummed impatiently as she set her tea down.

“Oh, yes. Do you remember the mill fire from the papers a while back? The arsonist was one of those two.” Lena’s eyes went wide. Too wide in Satya’s opinion. The reaction seemed over the top, almost feigned, but perhaps that was just Lena.

“I work there!” the brunette exclaimed, nearly toppling Emily’s tea as she sat up.

“What was he like?” Satya furrowed her brow, trying to think of what to say.

“He’s missing an arm and a leg, but he has limited issued with mobility. His speech is a bit coarse, as are his manners, but if I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have thought him an arsonist.” Lena pursed her lips as she processed the information.

“Interesting.” Judging by the look Emily gave the girl at her side, Lena was being uncharacteristically quiet.

“I am sorry to bring this lovely chat to an end, but other guests should be arriving at any moment. We should wait in the foyer to greet them.” Moira interrupted, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt. “Shall we?”

 

Satya was on the verge of running from the room and ripping at her hair. For almost an hour, she had stood by the door with Moira and Mr. Reyes greeting a number of strangers she would never remember. She didn’t know if she could bear smiling politely at any other woman singing odd praises and touching at her face, clothes, or hair. Or all three.

“My goodness, aren’t you lovely thing.”

“I’ve never heard of a name like Satya. But it fits. An unconventionally pretty name for an unconventionally pretty girl.” She wasn’t sure that was a compliment.

“I know a strapping young lad that you simply must meet!” That one was the worst. Their husbands were almost as bad.

“A lovely daughter you have, Mr. Vaswani. I know a young gentleman looking for a wife. Perhaps I could introduce him to you once the season begins.” Why was the world obsessed with marrying her off? She hadn’t asked, she didn’t want to meet any “strapping young lads”, and she was sick of the word lovely. Is that all she was? Something to look at and fawn over like a porcelain doll or beloved pet? When the last of the guests arrived, everyone was called for dinner, Satya was ready to sprint into the dining room and attach herself to the hip of any of the women with which she’d had tea. She spotted Emily and Lena giggling by the table and quickly took a seat next to Emily. The ginger haired girl took notice of Satya’s harried expression and giggled.

“First time dealing with London elite? It can be overwhelming.” Unable to speak, Satya nodded.

“Don’t worry, they’ll likely lose interest after tonight. You’re new and they always prefer meddling in other people’s lives rather than minding their own.” Satya smiled hesitantly.

“You think so?” Lena snorted.

“I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that. I’d end up smacking someone.” The sound of a spoon clinking on a glass came from the head of the table.”

“If I may have your attention please.” Called Mr. Reyes. The pre-dinner chatter went silent. “I’d like to propose a toast.” Everyone lifted their glasses.

“To new friends, may this be the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership.” The sounds of glass clinging gently against glass filled the room, a bell rang, and dinner was served.

“The lamb is wonderful, don’t you think?” Satya glanced, startled, to her other seat neighbor. Mr. Korpal cut and forked another bite of mutton into his mouth. Satya nodded.

“It’s very well prepared, I must agree.” The blond man hummed, straightening the napkin in his lap.

“I’m glad you like it. What do you think of the manor?”

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. It must have taken a while to complete.” Sanjay laughed.

“Indeed, it did. I’m relieved to hear you think that. Nocturne is my own design, after all.” Satya’s eyes widened.

“Really? Most impressive. My father must enjoy working with a creative such as yourself.” He smiled.

“I hope so. I enjoy working with him. He brings an entirely different level of refinement to the projects we’ve worked on.” He paused to sip from his glass. “I’ve been told you make very elegant designs. Perhaps you’ll visit the office sometime?” Satya looked up at him surprised, and pricks of unease shot down her spine again. That was the third time he’d looked at her that way. What was it about that look that made her so uncomfortable? Pushing the feeling down, she smiled.

“I would love to.” He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a call across the room.

“Mr. Korpal!” Mr. Reyes beckoned to him from across the room. Sanjay sighed.

“It appears I am needed elsewhere. Save a dance for me?” Satya nodded absentmindedly and turned to talk to Emily, only to find her seat and Lena’s empty. Where did they go?

……..

 

            Emily laughed as Lena pulled her by the hand through the manor halls. Lena had pulled her away from the table without any explanation and as soon as they had exited the dining room, had grabbed her hand and started running through the halls and ducking in and out of rooms to hide from passing maids and butlers.

            “Lena, love.” She laughed, almost tripping over her skirt. “Where are we going?” They were approaching the door to her uncle’s office, but Lena probably didn’t know that. Before she could warn her, Lena opened the door and pulled Emily inside. But they weren’t alone. Standing behind Uncle Gabe’s desk was Ms. Amari. The three women stared, startled at one another for a few long moments until Lena clumsily fumbled with the door knob until it turned and backed out of the office, pulling Emily with her and shutting the door.

            “What was that about?” asked Lena. Emily shrugged.

            “I don’t know. Not many people are allowed in Uncle Gabe’s office.” A lively polka began playing from downstairs and Lena’s face lit up. She smiled cheekily and gave a dramatic bow.

            “May I have this dance?” Emily smiled and responded with an equally over the top curtsey.

            “How could I refuse?” Lena smiled, pecked a kiss to her nose, and grabbed her hand once more, dragging her in the direction of the ballroom.

……..

            Once again, Satya was shoved into the pit of unwanted social interaction. The dancing was just as bad as the greeting, only now her feet hurt. Lena and Emily had reappeared soon after the dancing began and they were now laughing and spinning in circles in a corner of the room away from the dancers. It was a pleasant and charming scene. Refreshing in contrast to the thinly veiled personal questions and matchmaking she dealt with as she danced with a growing number of strangers. She’d lost count a while ago. Just as she thought she’d caught a break, a familiar blond appeared in front of her.

            “I believe I was promised a dance?” smiling tiredly, she nodded and took his offered hand. The two took their spots for the next dance and the music started up once again. Immediately, nostalgia and longing flooded her chest. This was the same mazurka Olivia had played at the Christmas party. The pair began the familiar hop step sequence. If she blurred her vision enough, she could almost imagine she was dancing with a different blond. A blond she would much rather be dancing with, or better yet, reading with in the haystack.

            “You’re quite good at this.” And the illusion was broken. Instead a perfectly groomed man who was definitely not Jamison stood before her.

            “I had a wonderful teacher.” She replied, remembering Jamison’s spontaneous tutelage at the Christmas party.

            “Indeed, Ms. Amelie was the best.” Satya’s smile fell.

            “She really was.” They had come from side by side into the closed position now.

            “I am sorry for your loss. She seems to have meant a lot to you.” Satya nodded, relieved he had misunderstood her sullen expression, even though he had reminded her of a second reason for sorrow.

            “She was strict, but I admired her very much.” Sanjay adopted a sympathetic expression.

            “I understand. I think she would be very proud if she could see you now.” Satya smiled sadly.

            “I hope so.” The last step sequence began, and Satya grew impatient. Her feet would torment her tomorrow and she was dying to sit down.

            “There’s no doubt in my mind.” Sanjay continued. “Everyone here has loved meeting you. Without a doubt you’ll receive lots of invitations to tea and parties. Not to mention, by the time the season begins, you’ll likely have your pick of a number of eligible bachelors.” Satya froze mid-curtsey as the song ended, barely remembering to stand. The uneasy pricking came to an all-time high as she fought not to rip her gaze from his eyes and let her polite smile fall. That look again.

            “I suppose that is something Madame would be proud of.” The two parted ways and Satya hid herself in an empty sitting room adjacent to the ballroom. What had Sanjay meant by commenting upon the social season? Why was he looking at her like that? What did he want? The season began in April, only a few weeks away, but was she really expected to become engaged that soon? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Her thoughts trapped her attention as the last songs were played and she robotically said her farewells to the many strangers she never wanted to see again. Emily gave her a friendly squeeze with a promise of an invitation to tea before Lena left but Satya could only nod, exhausted.

 She feigned falling asleep on her father’s shoulder on the way home to avoid looking at Sanjay, only stirring when her father gently shook her and concernedly asked Hana to help her inside, so she could sleep. After she had been freed from her corset and left in just her chemise, she collapsed into bed, absently noticing the telegram on the side table before drifting into a worried, restless slumber.

……..

            Gabriel collapsed into his seat as he read the note on his desk. Ana wasn’t a part of this, she couldn’t be. He growled, frustrated. Whatever was going on here was Jack’s fault. It had to be. Ana had been a loyal friend for over two decades. She would never betray him. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t have anyone left if she did.

 

_Gabriel,_

_I caught that woman you invited leaving your office at tonight’s dinner. She claimed she had gotten lost, but you can see why I have a difficult time believing that. She knows something. I’m certain. She must be dealt with. Perhaps this will could be an opportunity to test Moira’s theory. Figure out the best way for the mycobacterium tuberculosis to do its job, and enact it as soon as possible. I am interested to see the results._

  * _Akande Ogundimu_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's bit of history... The season! The season was the period of time between April and August in which many traveled to London to socialize and partake in politics. Upperclass girls "Debuted" during this time, meaning they came out as being ready for marriage. During the season they would go to parties and other social events to meet eligible bachelors looking for wives. It is completely and utterly absurd and the season had pretty much died by the time wwi rolled around.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting into the thick of things guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jamison,  
I miss you too, beyond measure. The welcome party was last night and I can say with certainty I never want to experience anything like it again. There were so many people speaking to me all at once and asking questions I feel were far too personal . Surely this cannot be right? I want to take your advice about Sanjay, but I cannot simply avoid him. He accompanies my father on all business and most social calls. I don’t know if it’s something about the arrangement of his features that I find unsettling or if he does this intentionally. Whatever it is I do wish it would stop. I am sorry to hear about your house, but you’ll have a better one soon. Do try to keep it clean. Sharing the loft does sound terribly cramped. How do you all manage to fit? I hope you’re not disturbing Ms. Ling – Zhou’s classes. Please take care of yourself, I’ll be back at first opportunity.  
Satya  
……..  
“He what?” Jack jumped from his seat, gaping at Ana.  
“He saw me leaving the office, Jack. There was dancing downstairs, I didn’t think anyone would be up there!” Jack began to pace before the hearth, eyes screwed shut and his palms to his temple.  
“They’re going to kill you, Ana.” He muttered. “There’s no way they’ll let you go after you were caught leaving a room housing plans to assassinate the head of Russia’s most influential corporate entity.”  
“I’ll be fine Jack. I’ll return to Egypt if I must.” Ana protested, rising from her seat to rest her hands on Jack’s shoulders.  
“You already agreed to attend the reception for the Volskaya contract reception! If you leave now they’ll chase you wherever you go!” He sank into his chair.  
“At the reception, arrive late to miss dinner claiming your cab malfunctioned, don’t eat or drink anything you’re offered, and do not, I repeat, do not leave the crowd. Find an excuse to leave early if you can.” The panic had yet to fade from Jack’s face as Ana took his teacup from the side table and pressed it into his hands.  
“Calm down, Jack. Just breathe and we’ll discuss it once you can think clearly. I don’t die that easily.” The pair were silent until Jack had drained the teacup and returned it to the table. Ana returned to her chair and straightened her spine.  
“Ok. We know what’s going to happen at the party, how can it be avoided?” Jack bit his lip.  
“The Volskaya family always travels with a bodyguard, but we can’t count on the bodyguard being with the CEO at the time of the assassination. The husband and the daughter don’t appear to be targets. We don’t know how they’re planning to do it, but based on past victims, we can expect it will be disguised as an accident.” Deduced Jack, interlacing his fingers.  
“So we can likely rule out poison and firearms.” Stated Ana. “Do you think it could have something to do with the visiting scientist? I was informed he declined the invitation to the welcome dinner last minute and will not be present at the Volskaya reception.”  
“Perhaps more to do with Gabriel’s wife.” Jack grumbled, ambling to his desk.  
“I’ll write some letters, see if I can get in contact with the Gibralter scientist. He would know what Moira is doing.” Ana nodded.  
“I’ll take my leave then. I suppose you’ll want me to ask the maid to walk me home?” Jack nodded, picking up a pen.  
“Yes. They may try something before the reception, so be careful.  
……..  
Jamison smirked as all the little students fawned over firecracker. Ms. Mei’d thought it would be “an enriching experience” if he and Mako gave the little rugrats a lesson on raising animals and what better way to do that than showcase his favorite animal! Ms. Mei shooed the little ones back into their seats and narrowed her eyes at him. He sighed and trapped the sheep under his arm to keep her from running off.  
“Ok, uh, students.” He began, using his best teacher voice. “Ms. Mei here thought you should know about sheep and taking care of ‘em, so that’s what I’m gonna talk about and Mako’ll butt in if he’s got something to add.” Mako gave the students a thumbs up.  
“Alrighty. So as you can see,” he patted firecracker’s head. “This is a sheep. It’s got this fuzzy stuff growing outa it called wool, which is itchy as...” Mei glared at him as he stifled the curse. “uh, nothing else like it, but really warm and stuff. Some of you are probably wearing it right now.” A knock sounded at the door and the mailman popped his head in.  
“I gotta telegram for a Jamison Fawks from London?” Mei nodded and took the telegram, shooting Jamison a pointed look in response to the pleading look he gave her. Satya’s letter was right there. Just across the room. Right. There.  
“Finish the lesson, Mr. Fawks.” Mei prompted, motioning to the sheep. He cleared his throat.  
“So you gotta keep the sheep alive until you can cut the wool off with shears.” Quickly, he picked up the chalk at the board began scrawling a list.  
“Ok, to be a grazier, this is what you have to do. One, get some sheep and a barn. Two put a pile of hay and a trough of water in that barn. Three, put the sheep in the field in the morning, and the barn in the evening and make sure they don’t run off. Four, wait for a couple of months. And five, shear the wool. Ok, that’s it, class dismissed, hope ya took notes, quiz tomorrow. Bye.” Snatching the letter from Mei, he scrambled up to the loft before she could say anything.  
The loft was actually pretty cozy when the majority of its residents were out. Waving at Angela, he sat on the pile of blankets in the corner he’d claimed for himself and began reading the telegram. He wishes he were with her in London. This Sanjay sounded like a creep. Or he just gotta really ugly mug.  
“Jamison Fawks!” Jamison whipped his head around, searching for a place to hide. Finding none, he prepared himself to face the wrath of the small school teacher.  
……..  
Satya sighed. Three days had passed since the party. Hana was at the ballet studio, none of the books in the house could hold her interest, and there was nothing to draw. She was still tired, but she didn’t want to grow accustomed to sleeping until noon, so a nap wasn’t an option either. Earlier, a telegram had arrived from Emily saying Lena had received a telegram after the party and returned to Surrey the morning after, but Emily would visit her tomorrow if Satya wished. She’d already composed her agreement and sent it off, so there was nothing urgent or otherwise she could turn her attention to. The door opened and Hana skipped in.  
“Welcome back.” Satya greeted. “How was the studio?” Hana smiled, bouncing excitedly as she sat down.  
“It was great! The teacher was funny, the dancers were beautiful, and the music was great! After the lesson ended, Lucio taught me a song on the piano!” She sighed, happily flopping into an armchair. “Thank you, Satya. For making me talk to him. He’s really interesting.” She sat up suddenly, digging in her pockets.  
“I almost forgot. I stopped by Hassan’s office to bring him the lunch I packed that he so kindly forgot.” She grumbled as she pulled a telegram from her pocket. “This arrived there for you. Hassan said it’s probably an invitation to tea or something from one of the ladies you met at the party.” Groaning, Satya took the telegram from Hana, dreading the contents. She couldn’t exactly decline without being rude. Unfolding the paper, she began to read.  
……..  
Miss Vaswani,  
I apologize for the lack of prior introduction. I do hope you’ll forgive me. My name is Madeline Fawks. If you think it sounds familiar, it should. Jamison, who I’ve been told you are aquatinted with, is my son. He speaks very highly of you in his telegrams and after learning the address of your father’s office, my family decided we must invite you to tea. I understand that Surrey is a bit of a drive, but if you are able to make it, we would love to have you for tea at Arbitrium House next Wednesday. It’s been so long since we’ve seen Jamison and he tells us plenty in his telegrams, but it would be a comfort to speak with someone who has seen him recently and is, clearly, of great importance to him to him.  
Cordially, Madeline Vincent Fawks  
……..  
“Satya”  
His Mother?  
“Satya”  
He’d told his family about her?  
“Satya!”  
Satya blinked as Hana waved a hand in front of her face.  
“Is everything ok? What does the telegram say?” Satya nodded.  
“Everything’s fine. I’ve been invited to tea in Surrey next Wednesday.” Hana wrinkled her nose.  
“Surrey? What’s in Surrey?” Satya folded the telegram and started up the stairs to put it in her correspondence box.  
“The family of someone I met in Australia.” She replied. Hana remained still, eyebrows furrowed before gasping and racing to the foot of the stairs.  
“You don’t mean a convict do you?” Satya froze, choosing her words.  
“According to the British government, yes, I suppose he is. But it me, he’s Jamison. A convict has no place in my life. Jamison does.” She continued up the stairs leaving Hana to gape behind her.

Arriving at her desk, Satya began to pen her response. If she sent for a cab at eight, she should arrive in Surrey by one. She would tell Mrs. Fawks one thirty to allow for any delays.  
“I’m sorry.” Satya looked up from her telegram. Hana stood in the door frame. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” Satya shook her head.  
“You made an uninformed assumption. I thought the same way when I first arrived in Australia.”  
“No, this Jamison is obviously important to you. I should have trusted you wouldn’t get involved with someone dangerous.” Satya motioned for the younger girl to sit on her bed while she finished composing her response.  
“It’s ok, Hana. Really, it is.” Hana flopped back onto the bed as Satya folded her telegram and set it aside.  
“So what’s he like? He must be pretty great if he managed to charm you.” Satya chuckled.  
“He’s brash, stubborn, irresponsible, clumsy, and you would not believe the dirt, he’s filthy beyond belief.” She smiled, handing Hana the Christmas photograph and sitting on the bed beside her.  
“But he’s funny, and incredibly sweet. He listens when I talk to him and tries to make me laugh when I’m unhappy. He cares. I don’t think I can ask for anything more.” Hana studied the photograph closely.  
“You must miss him.” She said eventually. “What was he convicted of?”  
“Arson.” Satya took the photograph back to her desk. “He isn’t guilty though.”  
“How do you know? That’s the kind of thing people lie about.” Satya shook her head.  
“He was eleven when he was convicted. Do you really believe an eleven year old could burn down an entire mill?” Hana began to swing her legs.  
“I guess not. That is really fishy.” She stared at her feet, processing. “Do you think you’ll see him again?” Satya nodded.  
“I know I will. I promised. And I don’t break my promises.” Hana smiled.  
“Finally, you’re optimistic about something.”  
........  
It was late. Or early, rather. Hassan couldn’t tell and he’d left his pocket watch at home. The package tucked under his arm was heavy, with what, he knew not. He’d known Mr. Reyes was unconventional, but such a method of delivery wasn’t very efficient. Oh, well, the man had done him a lifetime’s worth of favours. Losing a night of sleep to do a favour in return was the least he could do. He scanned the empty street, searching for the man he’d been told to give the package to. The figure stood under an unlit lamp post, cloaked in the night to the point Hassan almost didn’t see him. The exchange was quick and wordless. Hassan gave the man the package, the man tipped his hat and left.  
Hassan had never gotten lost on his way home, but tonight, he took three wrong turns before finding the right street. But something was wrong. A lamp flickered in the sitting room window. He’d been certain everyone was asleep when he left. Opening the door carefully, he peered through the foyer to the sofa in the sitting room. He sighed. It was just Satya.  
“Tandri? What were you doing out so late?” Hassan froze and glanced at the clock. Right, it was nearly two in the morning.  
“Ah, I just left something at the office. Don’t worry.” He pulled his coat and hat off, hanging them on the coat rack. He pointedly ignored her look of disbelief. Really, he should have known she was smart enough to know he hadn’t been at the office  
“What are you doing up?” He rebutted. “I thought you were asleep.” She evidently had been, judging by her dressing gown and sleepy eyes, but he wasn’t going to say anything else about his night adventure.  
“I was, but I woke up and decided a cup of tea would coax me back to sleep .” He smiled. Her mother had liked tea before bed too.  
“I see. Well, I think I’m going to head to sleep myself. I’ve got another long day at the office tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late. Subha ratri, my dear.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.  
“Subha ratri, Tandri.”  
……..  
Dear Satya,  
This Sanjay sounds like a real prick. I don’t like him. If I were you, I’d sock him in the face and tell him to stop, but you’re too polite for that. We’re doing fine up in the loft. I have a corner, Genji and angel face have a corner, Ms. Mei has a corner, and Mako has a corner and the middle of the floor. Been taking care of myself just fine thank you. And no trouble neither. Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t bother Ms. Mei, not in a million years. She’s scary. Take care of yourself. Don’t let the London ladies get the best of you. That goes double for Mr. Sandy or whatever you call him. Miss you.  
With love, Jamison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope all of you lovely people have an equally lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading, please tell me what you thought, the good, the bad, and what I could do better, constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
